Hellfire
by Astarpen
Summary: "Yes, and? I like having nice things. It doesn't matter if I have money, I work hard for it, that doesn't give you or any other hero the right to break my stuff because you think I'm some super villain who has a death ray in my basement." Charlie sniffed indignantly before looking back at her documents and pouring herself some more cereal.
1. Volume 01: Issue 01

**AN: This will be updated once a month. This is written in Volumes, each contains 7 issues, or chapters. First Volume is Santana, Second is Charlie, Third is Quinn, then Charlie. It'll make more sense once more Issues come out. Once a month, probably the first weekend of the month but if I'm lazy it'll come out sometime within the month. First Four Volumes are available already.**

 **Song: Hellfire**

 **Volume One: Issue One: Begging for A Thread**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

Santana glances down at her phone and back up at the building for a final time, frowning. She's glad for the cover of night, her customized superhero outfit providing her with the camouflage she desperately needs for this. This company might as well be Fort Knox for all the security that was surrounding the main office. She's spent weeks researching Charlie's schedule, called in as many favors as she can. The entire hero community thinks she's just another hero in a long list that's trying to bring in villainous Charlie Fabray. She wished it was that simple.

She still wasn't positive that this was a good idea. As if reading her mind, her wife's face pops up as an incoming call. She sighs and swipes to answer it quickly. "Hey."

 _'You aren't having second thoughts, are you?'_ Quinn's accusation is hard and Santana pinches her brow as she imagines her wheelchair-bound wife waiting for her to screw this up too. Everything has been different since Quinn's accident and the bone-crushing guilt weighed heavily on her.

"No." Santana denies quickly, snapping her mask into place. "Did you take your painkillers?" Santana asks without really thinking.

 _'I'm still a hero.'_ Quinn snaps quickly and Santana curses herself for starting the familiar argument. _'It's not like those pills do anything for me anyway.'_

Santana winces and tries to think of the right thing to say. Ever since the accident Quinn's been emotional as fuck and Santana often doesn't do well at navigating that minefield. "That's why we're doing this, _she's_ probably the smartest person in the world. She could probably come up with something that could make you walk again." She reminds her wife, "But I need you to be patient."

Quinn sighs audibly. _'I know. I'm sorry I'm being a bitch. I'm just stressed out.'_

Santana smirks. "You? A bitch? Never."

Quinn laughs at the sarcasm and Santana decides she's going to take that for the win. _'It's just—I'm worried. She might be the smartest person in the world but that also makes her the most dangerous person in the world. It's like an open secret in the community that she's the greatest threat to humanity. It doesn't matter how many times people drag her to jail she always gets off. Going on the offensive may not be the smartest of ideas.'_

"I _tried_ to do it the legal way, I tried to get a meeting with her. I did everything I could think of, called her office, and wrote her an _actual_ letter. I got one of those automated responses back and a signed picture, which she probably didn't even sign herself." Santana takes a breath, calming herself down. "Look, I might get slapped with a fine or something, but all I need is ten minutes of her time."

' _And when she says no?'_

"Who said I was going to _let her_ say no?" Santana smirks when she hears Quinn's snort of amusement. "Okay, I should get going. I'll call you when it's over."

 _'Be safe_.' Quinn cautions before Santana ends the call.

Santana exhales, wishing that it was summer, these shorter days were not good for her abilities. She couldn't store nearly as much energy as she normally did. But even with the shorter days, she was sure she still had enough juice left to lay waste Prometheus Enterprises corporate headquarters. She cracks her knuckles once before leaving the alleyway. No one seemed to notice her as she headed straight for the building, costumed heroes were simply a part of every-day life now. She stops at the entrance and pushes the door open after taking a breath, mentally preparing herself for the stares and the gawking. It was one thing to see a masked hero outside, it was something completely different going into a fancy building dressed like she was. But once again she was taken aback by how _little_ people seemed to care. No one was gawking at her, in fact except from a few looks as people exited the building no one seemed to notice her.

It probably had to do with the CEO's penchant for collecting street-level super-thugs as her grunts though. It was part of the reason the entire super-hero community was after her. Apparently Prometheus Enterprises was big on _rehabilitation_. Most people in the community thought it was a load of _shit_ , a clever ploy to build up power with the appearance of doing good, and the politicians _loved_ it. Crime was down, and it was less expensive than holding these low level super-thugs.

At least Prometheus gave off the air of being just another tech conglomerate. There were a couple of security guards manning the metal detectors and X-ray machines. It was clearly for the guests of the building as it seemed that everyone else had their own pass that let them breeze past security. She was tempted to go through those entrances but if she could avoid getting into a fight it would be better. She heads over to the guest security clearance area and taps the metal desk once to get the attention of the security guard.

"Please take off your mask and remove any change from your pockets." The burly man at the security desk informs her barely glancing at her. He was most definitely bored.

"Yeah. That's _not_ going to happen."

"Then please fill out form 482-B." He gestured toward a stack of papers beside him.

Santana stared at the _rent-a-cop_. "You've got to be _kidding_ me." She's torn between actually filling out the paperwork and just barreling her way to her goal. But since it was dark, it would be smart to maintain her energy reserves for a sustained extended fight. She picks up a pen and angrily fills out the minimum required information. "There. Happy?"

"Please proceed to the metal detector and remove any keys, coins, or other items from your pockets."

"Does it _look_ like I have pockets?"

The man finally looks up and sneers at her, "You're a superhero? You look a bit small to be one," he sniffed leering at her chest.

Santana's jaw dropped and for a moment she stares at him in shock before her hand moves as if it's possessed and her fist slams into his face. She grins at the sound of cartilage crunching as the man flies off his chair and skids across the ground. "Want to say that again to my face?" She demands angrily.

"You _fubbin—bitch! You brobe my nothe!"_ The man swore loudly and almost immediately a siren goes off.

Santana glances up at one of the security cameras, "Oh for fuck's sake! He _started_ it!" She snaps, twisting her body out of the way as the nearest rent-a-cop pulls out what appears to be a gun. The last thing she _needed_ was to get shot again. Quinn would simply start an argument about it and they'd fight about it for days. "Alright, so we're doing this the hard way." Santana sighs her hands lighting up with an orange-red glow. She needs to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand and she flicks her wrist, sending an orange glowing orb flying in the direction of the man's gun.

Five men in SWAT gear flood the lobby and Santana rolls her eyes. "Seriously?" She shakes her head. It takes just a minute for her to start firing multiple glowing orbs at the impending threat, taking each goon out one by one. She manages to dodge someone throwing a punch to take her out and she slams her foot into the back of his knee caps as his own momentum knocks him off balance. Vaulting over the man, she lands a firm kick to a member of the SWAT team that had managed to get up. This was _not_ going well at all. She could already hear people running and screaming and trying to get away. So much for doing this peacefully. She was definitely going to get a fine for this and maybe _another_ strike. "Will you _stay_ down?" She snaps flicking another blast at the man, watching as it exploded sending him flying.

"Get her!"

Santana turned, swearing under her breath as more rent-a-cops began to swarm her. " _Fuck_ ," she mutters, as she begins to duck and weave moving her body so she can launch her energy projectiles and still throw punches and kicks, sending men flying. She winces when someone grabs her shoulder roughly and immediately shifts her hips as she grabs his arm and sends him flying, the man crashes into the ground hard and she brings her boot down against his face. There's only guy left and even with the carnage surrounding him, he doesn't seem to be the last bit scared. It was troubling, maybe mind control? A hive mind of sorts?

Santana shifts slowly, she can vaguely hear the ding of the elevators but she personally doesn't care. She can feel the adrenaline pumping through her system. She fires off another round of energy orbs at the last man standing and smirks triumphantly when he runs for cover. _That_ was more like it. "Now—" She's cut short by a firm tapping on her shoulder and spins around to figure out where the hell that came from. "—Charlie?"

"Hi Santana." Her wife's identical twin smirks back at her, coldly assessing the damage done to her office lobby. "Two things. I see you took my advice when it came to designing your costume and got rid of the stupid cape. And two, I'm guessing that the autographed headshot was not what you were looking for when you wrote to me?"

"Fuck you. Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to just to get five minutes of your time?" Santana snaps. She's annoyed that she had to go to such crazy lengths in order to talk to her _sister-in-law_. Her sister-in-law who was no longer paying attention to her and had turned her attention to one of the rent-a-cops that she had hired. "Are you fucking kidding me—" Santana snaps reaching to grab onto Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie's reaction was swift her hand slamming upwards, a loud crack was heard as Santana went flying. She's vaguely aware of the sound of breaking glass, "Someone call in the medical team immediately," Charlie snapped at one of the secretaries who immediately picked up a phone and started to place the call. Charlie immediately drops to her knee so she can get a better look. "Don't worry Brett, you're going to get the best care available." Charlie promises trying her hardest not to grimace. Spinal injury, with at least three—no four broken ribs. He would quite probably never be cleared for this line of work again, but she could find something else for him. "You just focus on getting better Brett, and don't worry about the money. You're part of the Prometheus family."

Santana stumbles to her feet, stunned. What the fuck just happened? Charlie was quite literally a super genius that _sometimes_ was able to generate a spark—though she had never quite believed that was anything less than static electricity. But Charlie _definitely_ didn't have super strength. "What the fuck?" She mumbles feeling a sharp pain in her jaw. She truly hoped that Charlie hadn't broken it as she kicks some of the broken glass away and marches back into the building through the shattered window pane.

Kurt sighed as he left the elevator approaching Charlie who was quickly directing their own staff medical team to deal with Brett. As Charlie's personal assistant it was _his_ job to basically manage every aspect of her life. As her assistant it meant he was privy to all sorts of information and even though he didn't understand the science behind most of what went on, he did have a working memory of every project that Charlie was personally involved in. "Ms. Fabray, you know the Aegis isn't ready for a test run and that is the only _prototype_ that we have!"

"Well it's a good thing it's a working prototype, isn't it?" Charlie drawls glancing down at her left arm. She had the best and the brightest working for Prometheus, and they still hadn't managed to get the Aegis fully operational even though it had been in development for over two years now. It had been the very first project she had worked on before running the company had taken her out of research and development. She was the face behind Prometheus, she was the visionary and that meant dealing with people she'd rather ignore. Greedy politicians who she had to wine and dine to make sure that that she dealt with all the red tape. She _loathed_ the red tape. But it seemed that delegating was not the right thing to do in this instance. The Aegis was supposed to act as a second skin. A bulletproof, reactive skin, but it was slow and the user extended very little control over the technology. The Aegis was already behind schedule and the military was not known for its patience. They might end up losing the contract.

Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to looking at his tablet, "Well, the helicopter is waiting for you on the helipad. You're supposed to be having dinner with the French ambassador tonight and you're going to be _late_."

"I thought I had that fundraiser to attend." Charlie frowned. It was always so hard to keep track of her schedule. "I assume that I have a change of clothes somewhere?"

"Of course. Upstairs in your office, I'll have it brought to the helipad." Kurt taps his tablet and looks at his boss watching as she blinked once. "I believe he wants to talk to you about your international expansion. Even though I'm aware you were doodling some new designs during the last board meeting, you know the EU has been courting Prometheus business and they want to talk about new security measures."

Charlie turns to walk toward the elevator so she can get to her helipad, trying not to audibly groan. It was unbecoming for the CEO and President of the largest technology conglomerate in the world to groan at the idea of boring ass meetings, so she'd hold her tongue.

At being so readily dismissed, Santana grit her teeth tightly. "Where do you think you're going?" She steps around the glass squaring her shoulders as she marches towards Charlie.

"To _France_ , apparently." Charlie responds.

"To the French Embassy," Kurt corrects.

"Which is basically France."

"By the way, the detainment squad is already coming to pick her up," Kurt nods towards Santana.

"Don't bother. She'll see herself out."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not fucking here!" Santana snaps her hands starting to flicker as her anger began to boil over. She hadn't come here to fight, not physically. Charlie had built Prometheus Enterprises into one of the biggest tech companies in the world in a few short years. They did everything, from research and development of weapons, pharmaceuticals, robotics, computer hardware and software, bio engineering, and many other fields. But what she was really after was their medical research program. She had seen the commercials of wounded vets and children getting robotic limbs that worked very much like their old ones. The medical branch of Prometheus was revolutionizing medicine but getting Quinn into one of those programs had been near impossible.

Charlie stepped into the elevator and turned to look at Santana. "You have until I get to the helipad. So I suggest that you learn to speak fast."

Santana immediately lunges as the doors of the elevator begin to close. She hears a snort from Charlie's assistant, she hadn't even noticed him entering the elevator. "Very graceful," he snorts rolling his eyes.

Santana glared at him and opens her mouth to rip into him when Charlie clears her throat. "You're wasting time Santana, get on with it."

Santana tilts her head to Charlie and shifts so she's standing straight. "It's about Quinn. I don't know if you heard but she was hurt—"

"I know." Charlie comments, upon seeing the look on Santana's face she shrugs her shoulders. "I may need a new kidney one day. I keep tabs on her. What does any of this have to do with you attacking my security?"

Santana opens her mouth and closes it again at a complete loss for words. "He started it."

"What'd he do? If it's anything less insulting than him asking you if you'd had breast augmentation, then I don't see the relevance."

Santana clamped her mouth shut for a second, she wasn't going to dignify that with a response. "Look, I'm here about Quinn. Prometheus is on the bleeding edge of medical research and development and more importantly technology in general. Surely there are some strings you can pull to get her into a program that deals with spinal injuries, you know one of those experimental programs. Our insurance is good, but it's not _that_ good."

"We at Prometheus see healthcare as an inalienable _right_ ," Kurt responded immediately toeing the company policy.

" _Kurt_." Charlie stresses his name and watches as he immediately goes back to his tablet. Charlie pushes a button on the Aegis watching as it begins to retract from her skin. "It doesn't _work_ like that. Look, I'm sorry that you've _wasted_ everyone's time and that you put a man in the hospital for nothing. However I can put in a good word for you at Pierce Industries."

Kurt frowned and leaned in to remind his boss that, she couldn't simply call Brittany up anymore. Not only was the SEC breathing down their necks, the shareholders were uncomfortable with such displays of _impropriety_. "Brittany's not taking your calls remember? You forgot her birthday."

"Right. Yeah, never mind she's still upset with me. Nothing I can do." Charlie frowns and turns to look at Kurt. "Be sure to send her some more duck-shaped chocolates. I know she really liked those the last time. Also make sure it says I'm sorry; in a semi-fun font."

This meeting was not going how she envisioned but she had promised her wife that she wouldn't let Charlie wiggle her way out of this. " _She's your twin_."

"And I care 'deeply', but I've seen her medical records and most of her internal organs are _fine_. She did lose her spleen though, good thing that's not commonly transplanted." Charlie shrugs studying Santana. "Quinn's in a wheelchair. It is _not_ the end of the world. It's certainly not a valid reason to come to my offices and cause a scene and cost my company _millions_ because once again our insurance premiums just went up." It was the sudden spike in room temperature that caused Charlie to focus on Santana for more than two seconds. "Even if I wanted too, Quinn is my _identical_ twin sister. No one in my company is stupid enough to put Quinn on their operating table because they probably have the mistaken belief that I will be pissed if anything goes wrong. I mean I will be irritated sure, I'll have to investing in cloning or—" Charlie pauses for a moment and turns to Kurt. "Organ printing. It could _solve_ the organ donation shortage and _close_ the black market for it."

"Brilliant ma'am." Kurt said immediately writing that down. He was used to this, Charlie thought big all the time, she had ideas and more importantly unlike other CEOs if he gave her a month or two she'd come up with a working design, or she'd have come up with some new technology that moved everyone forward a few steps. The real problem that most people faced wasn't that they didn't have big ideas it was simply that technology hadn't quite caught up with their ideas. Charlie's brain found solutions. It was how she had earned her first billion, using the patent system.

"So you aren't going to help?" Santana couldn't believe it. Charlie was Quinn's _last_ chance.

"Help with what exactly? She's in a wheelchair. It's not like she's on life support. It is not the end of the world and I read her medical reports, there is a _real_ possibility that my sister will be able to walk again. She might need a cane for the rest of her life but there's that possibility."

"She's lost her career—"

"Not. My. _Problem_."

"She's a fucking superhero. You _honestly_ won't do anything to help her?"

"You mean like she ever helped me?" Charlie sneers, smirking when Santana looks away unable to meet her gaze. It's petty and childish but she's _done_ worrying about her 'super' family. She shakes her head, the last thing that she wants to do is worry about _Quinn_. "Look, I can't help you."

"Charlie—"

Her name from Santana's lips only makes Charlie's resolve harden. "Even if I wanted to—even if I had the _slightest_ inclination to help you— I wouldn't." The elevator dings and Charlie glances at the doors. "Now if you'll excuse me your time is up. I have a meeting with the French Ambassador. Do you think they'll serve those little fancy finger foods? Say what you want about the French, but they certainly do have some of the best cuisine in the world."

"Well, they didn't send me over the menu for tonight so I can't be sure, but I do _suspect_ that they will be wining and dining you," Kurt informed her stepping off the elevator, in step with his boss.

"Hmm, well hopefully they serve good wine. Do I have a plus one tonight? Perhaps that Russian—model? You know the flexible one that was a gymnast."

"She accepted your invitation and I sent over an appropriate—"

Santana clenched her teeth and tightened her fists as she swallowed down any of her pride. She was _doing this_ because of her wife. She should have been there by Quinn's side that night. They were supposed to be a team, but now it was all fucked up. She had _promised_ that she'd get Charlie to help and yet she was failing at that as well. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Charlie stops and turns to look back at Santana raising a brow. "Excuse me?"

"I'll do whatever it takes. That's what you do, isn't it? How you keep all those _thugs_ on your payroll. You find a weakness and exploit it for your own personal gain? How many other people have been in my shoes?"

"Well that's certainly one way of looking at it," Charlie muses studying Santana.

"Ma'am."

"Not now Kurt, you heard her. She'll do _anything_ ," Charlie drawls a slow smirk crossing her face. "Anything?"

"Within reason." Santana amends. "I'm not going to kill anyone for you."

Charlie waves away the condition, her smirk broadening. "I'm filthy rich, I can _hire_ a professional to make it look like an accident—"

" _Ma'am_." Kurt stresses.

Charlie ignores him taking a step closer to Santana. "So the real question is what you can do for me that I can't pay someone else for?" She taps her chin thoughtfully, enjoying the way that Santana is trying not to squirm under Charlie's gaze. Charlie's eyes harden. "Could you really do it? Be nothing more than my whore so that your broken wife can once again have someone save her from her own consequences?"

Santana grits her teeth. She's doing this for Quinn and if it means taking a hit to her pride, then she can do it. "I won't be your _whore_ , but—"

"Then what good are you?" Charlie rolls her eyes. She turns back to Kurt. "So about Tatiana, she will be wearing something stunning right?" Charlie presses.

"Of course, and I assure you that there will be easy access as well." Kurt answers the question that Charlie hadn't asked.

"You're disgusting." Santana snaps, unable to stop herself.

"And your _only_ hope." Charlie taunts before turning and beginning to walk back to her office so she can grab her change of clothes. "But if you change your mind, feel free to schedule an appointment with Kurt and _not_ show up and start punching things like a child throwing a tantrum."

Santana feels her frustration and rage start to get the better of her, barely aware of the elevator heating around her like a furnace. Everything was riding on this meeting going well and it just _hadn't_. She blows out a breath of frustration and grits her teeth. "Charlie, wait—"

Charlie spins on her heel, surprised. She had thought that would be the end but maybe Santana was more desperate than she had expected. "Oh my, this is more interesting than I—" Charlie's not able to finish her sentence before Santana punches her hard and fast, sending Charlie flying across the room and skidding to a stop at the opposite wall.

"Fuck you." Santana jams her finger on the elevator button to close the door and send her down to the lobby.

Charlie cracks her neck and accepts Kurt's hand as he tries to help her up. Aegis apparently doesn't have the defensive capabilities that she had anticipated and that's _definitely_ going to have to be tweaked before she lets the military dispense it as their newest and greatest toy.

"Please tell me that's the last we see of her." Kurt grumbles.

Charlie chuckles and rubs her cheek. There would probably be a massive bruise by tomorrow. "Sure." She shrugs, pretty sure that is a lie anyway. Whatever. Santana would be back, she was sure of it.

~O~

Quinn isn't waiting at the door when Santana comes home, and she's not sure if she should be pissed about that or relieved that she doesn't have to relive her epic failure seconds after stepping through the door. Santana shrugs off the hoodie that kept her neighbors from fully seeing her uniform and itches to get herself out of the threads that normally make her feel powerful. Tonight, all it does is make her feel like a failure.

She glances around the room, frowning as she thinks of how much everything has changed in the last year. Wheelchair accessible ramps and relocated furniture to accommodate Quinn's new limitations are the most superficial changes, but hardly the most important.

She just wants to turn back the clock and get her life back—get her _wife_ back—and then instantly feels guilty. Because as hard as it is for Santana to deal with the changes, it has to be harder for Quinn. She just doesn't know what the fuck she's supposed to do anymore. Every day seems to pull them further and further from the life they had planned toward some bitter old couple that snapped at one another for the smallest indiscretions.

There was a time they had been happy and she _knew_ she wasn't the only one feeling this strain. Quinn looked at her with dull, almost dead, eyes and it made Santana feel almost overwhelmed with guilt.

"How'd it go?" Quinn's voice queries from the dining room and Santana forces her feet to move toward the sound.

She's defeated. _Broken_. But she can't let Quinn see that. "I think it really might work." She says with false hope, biting her lip as she stays out of sight. Maybe if Quinn doesn't _see_ her then she won't be able to detect the lie.

But Quinn is no fool. She quirks a brow and wheels herself to face Santana. "Liar."

Santana deflates but makes no move to try to continue the lie. "Fuck her. We'll find something else—someone else if we have to. I'm sure—"

"She was my _last_ chance, Santana, don't you get that?"

"Of _course_ I get that. I may not be some genius like _her_ but I'm no moron." Santana snaps. She's exhausted and emotionally spent and _definitely_ taking out on the wrong person, but she's a superhero not a saint.

"I _knew_ this was a bad idea," Quinn muses, mostly talking to herself.

"Quinn—"

"No, she didn't even show up to her wedding—she threw a _press_ conference during the ceremony! And fine maybe she's busy trying to take over the world or whatever evil plan she has but she didn't even send a gift to the reception. I was in the hospital for weeks and where was she? She didn't visit me once, she probably didn't even know that I was in the hospital. No flowers, no card, not even a phone-call."

"She did," Santana squeezes in when Quinn takes a breath. "She was aware that you were in a condition, I think she may have gotten into your medical records. So she probably does care."

"And she still said no?"

"She's still a bitch. _That_ at least hasn't changed. But if we give her a few days to think it over, maybe she'll change her mind?" It was a fool's hope but it was really all she had at this point. Charlie had been _different_ growing up. Maybe the person she still knew was in there.

Quinn swallows, "Yeah, maybe. Maybe we should see if we can get into another one of the experimental programs. Maybe in another city? Someone somewhere has to be doing trials. I know Pierce industries is a possibility. If she doesn't want to help she could put in a good word for us right?"

Santana smiles, not wanting Quinn to know that Charlie probably couldn't help on that front either. "We can ask, she might be more inclined to help us that way. She did mention Pierce industries, and I think she knows their CEO—intimately. So who knows?"

But the chance at sparking hope at some sort of change has dimmed. "Sure." Quinn doesn't even pretend to believe that it will turn out any different. "I think, I'm just going to head to bed? It's been a long day."

Santana nods and glances at the table where Quinn was clearly pouring over their finances. She feels sick at the thought, yet another failure in her growing list. It hadn't been easy to pay for the changes that needed to be in place to pay for Quinn's surgeries and accommodations. Then there were the medical bills that they still needed to pay. She hadn't been able to work nearly as much due to the fact that she needed to make sure that Quinn was okay. Maybe it would have been easier to ask Charlie for money. She was a billionaire, she already had more money than she probably knew what to do with. She swallows, she needed to get a better job.

~O~

Santana checked the address once more on her GPS before fixing her hood and continuing to walk towards one of Charlie's many mansions. From what she could find, this was one of her favorites and according to her social media profile she spent her weekends at this mansion rather than at her penthouse in the city. Still to say that it was a gated community was pushing it, the people who lived here had their own private security force and she was sure there were super's on the payroll to protect them.

She had once again _tried_ to get in the legal way, but without a visitor's pass, and the fact that she drove a relatively inexpensive car, she had been rejected. She was _tired_ of getting _rejected_ like this. Being turned away because she didn't have more money than she knew what to do with. It wasn't even her fault, they had needed to sell the car to get something more reasonable for Quinn and used the extra money to help fix up the house.

They needed the money, and more importantly she needed to get Quinn healthy again. She wanted her wife to walk. Even though Quinn was a relative pain in her ass, she loved her more than anything and if doing _this_ meant that Quinn would walk again, then she was willing to risk her marriage on it. It was better to ask for forgiveness then to ask permission. But that didn't mean she was just going to try and get out of it. She wasn't going to be _easy_.

She exhaled a bit, enjoying the sun on her skin as she finally made it past the tennis courts and various other buildings on Charlie's sprawling property and frowned, she was closing in on the gaudy looking building that Charlie called a home. She had probably gotten some fancy architect to build it.

She finally reaches what she assumes is the front door and frowns, momentarily at a loss for what exactly she should do. Should she knock? Or barge in without any sort of announcement? Biting her lip, she finally decides on ringing the doorbell less she look any _more_ like an asshole. She _needs_ this to go well and she might as well try to be polite first. She presses her finger down on the buzzer, waiting for any sort of reply. She glances through one of the windows on the side of the doors to see if anyone was coming. She sighs and presses the bell again, it was a huge house she just needed to be patient. Charlie was obviously inside, there was a fancy sports car parked relatively closeby. From what she could see, from where she was standing peeking through the decorative glass that surrounded the doorway there was clothing strewn across the floor, like someone or people had been in a hurry to undress.

She's never been one to really think things like this through and reacts before she can stop herself, yanking the door open with a force that sends the hinges flying and shattering the decorative glass. She tosses the door, smirking when it lands on the sports car, with enough force to shatter the windshield. She smirks and steps in, she wasn't going to be _ignored_ anymore. She glances around for a moment, before noting that there were lights on in a room and immediately starts there. It only takes her a moment to realize that she's now in the kitchen.

Charlie looks up, not looking the least bit surprised. "Is this your great descent into super villainy? You aren't exactly good at it." She's got an expensive robe draped around her and a cereal bowl in her hands as she studies important looking documents.

"Hardly. I rang the bell."

"I know. I was ignoring you. I knew you were coming when you tripped my sensor alarm two miles back. Breaking and entering is still a crime." Charlie takes another bite of her cereal before turning to look at Santana. "You're rather dressed up. Big night? Going dancing with the wife—oh wait." Charlie laughs at her own joke, holding a hand up before Santana punched her again. She still had the bruise from last time. "I'm _joking_. Too soon? Probably. But you did _break_ into my house and I've seen your finances, I know you can't afford to pay for the damage that you just caused. So the question is why are you here?"

"I'm here to get you to act like a decent human being."

"Not interested." Charlie shrugs. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out—I guess that's harder since you _destroyed_ it, but—"

"I was hoping we could work something out."

"So you thought you would break into my home? That's an interesting tactic. I hope you'll forgive me if I don't use that in any more important negotiations."

"Look. I won't be your whore and I won't kill for you."

Charlie raises her brow. "Forgive me, but this conversation is getting boring really quickly."

"But maybe I can give you a heads up when another hero is taking a run at you." Santana's not sure what she expects Charlie's response to be, but it's definitely not laughter. "What the fuck is so funny?"

"I have lawyers who bill me more hourly than you make in a year, but _besides_ that I don't do anything illegal. Unethical _maybe_ , morally questionable _sure._ But not illegal."

"You want to take over the world." Santana shakes her head disbelievingly.

"Point to the law that says taking over the world is illegal." Charlie scoffs. "It's not so much about _having_ power as how you get it and what you do with it when you have it."

"Semantics." Santana dismisses. "But you know that there are going to be hundreds of super-heroes trying to take you down. You think one of them isn't going to find something that looks questionable? That's going to get you into deep shit?"

"Santana, I'm the CEO of Prometheus Enterprises. I make more money a minute then most people see in their lifetimes. I had dinner with the President _last week_. Politicians come to me and kiss my ring so I donate to their 'Super Pacs', in what is basically just _legalized_ bribery. I'm sure there is something that my company does that may not be above board. We'll take a fine, but it certainly won't be _criminal_. So let each superhero attempt to take me down. It just bolsters my case of harassment and malicious prosecution that my lawyers are working on. By the way if you keep this up you'll be named as a defendant in the class action suit I'm compiling, so you may want to get your own counsel."

Santana's mouth went dry there was no way that she could afford that, not right now. Not with Quinn and the bills already. "You've seen our finances—"

"Yes, _and_? I like having nice things. It doesn't matter if I have money, I work hard for it, that doesn't give you or any other hero the _right_ to break my stuff because you think I'm some super villain who has a death ray in my basement." Charlie sniffed indignantly before looking back at her documents and pouring herself some more cereal, making a mental note to make a death ray whatever that entailed later. "So if you're not going to kill for me, which by the way in case you're wearing a wire, I wasn't being serious, and you've got nothing of value to actually offer me. I guess we're back to my original suggestion which is you being my whore. I mean you're rather dressed up. I mean if we're being completely honest, you're wearing _far_ too much clothing to be my whore. Also, I imagine that the woman I brought home last night might not be thrilled at your company. Then again, she might. It's very hard to tell sometimes."

"I'm not going to be your whore."

"Then why are you here?" Charlie presses. She knows what desperation smells like and Santana reeks of it. "Why are you dressed up if you were just coming here to _not_ be my whore?" Charlie finishes her cereal and brings the bowl to her lips drinking the rest of the milk before placing it down and wiping her lips. She had seen their finances, they were so deeply in debt. If Santana wasn't here to demand that she fix Quinn, then the only other thing that she could possibly want was _money_.

Santana stared at Charlie, wishing that she had underestimated her. Wishing that she hadn't made the decision before she came to simply get it over with. Wishing that the situation wasn't so desperate. She wanted to try and barter but she was out of options, she didn't have anything that Charlie wanted except for her body and it was better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. "One night."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment before smirking at her and leaning forward. "My guest, will just simply have to _deal_ with it then won't she?" Charlie leans back adjusting her body so that she can get a good look at Santana giving her former friend her undivided attention. "Well then? What are you waiting for? Get on your knees."


	2. Volume 01: Issue 02

**AN: A bit early because I'll be swamped this week and into next week with stuff to do. So this might be your sole update from me this week.  
**

* * *

Charlie watched the range of emotions flicker across Santana's face from humiliation to guilt to rage and loathing. But more importantly she could feel the heat coming off Santana in waves, it wasn't enough to get her to pull back. As far as she was concerned all these heroes who marched into her life hurting her employees and breaking her stuff, were the true menaces. How many people, children had been inadvertently hurt because they needed to _brawl_ in the streets. When had society deemed that to be _acceptable_? Billions of dollars in damage yearly, all because they needed to fight the whole thing was disturbing.

"We used to be friends once, you and me—" Santana tries again slowly, hesitating.

"We _used_ to be friends. Until you and Quinn got your powers." Charlie interrupts. She's not in the mood to listen to Santana try and appeal to her emotions.

"Is that what this is about?" Santana pressed. "You're upset with us because we got superpowers and you didn't? You're jealous?"

Charlie rolled her eyes and moved to arrange the documents on her desk, she had planned to spend most of today working in her lab. The Aegis prototype needed her personal touch, and she was going to spend most of the day undoing what her top engineers had done to her pet project. The Aegis was supposed to be the great equalizer. "Jealous of what exactly? I am either the smartest person in the world or at worst a close second. Unlike you and the rest of your _ilk_ , my power has helped millions of people without the collateral damage. I have saved lives, I have made lives _better_ and _easier_ , and what do you do? Beat up _thugs_ in the street wrecking people's livelihoods. But who cares because you got the _bad-guy_. The guy who was stealing because he doesn't have a job and has kids to feed. Yes. I'm _so_ jealous of your life's work." Charlie stands up, "So, now that you're _finished_ appealing to my emotions—poorly I might add, either get out of my house or do exactly as I say and get on your knees."

Santana hesitates once more, staring at Charlie, who wasn't even truly giving her the time of day. Even with all her power she didn't _feel_ powerful. That ease at which Charlie had left her feeling powerless, like she was beneath her. It was hard to remember why she was doing this, but she loved her wife. She loved Quinn, and it was _her_ fault that she was in that stupid chair. Swallowing her pride and getting this over with was all she could do.

"Now, now _Charlie_ ," a voice interrupts. "You're being _cruel_ again." Charlie raised a brow, shifting to her feet as Brittany S. Pierce entered the kitchen. "By the way, did you know that your front door is basically missing? It's a good thing I'm wearing slippers."

Charlie watches in amusement as Brittany walks past Santana, barely sparing her a glance as she opens one of the cupboards and grabs one of the many boxes of 'Cookie Crisps' that she has stocked for just an occasion. "I'm aware Britt, she's the one that did it. I was merely making a point."

Brittany hummed for a moment as she grabbed a bowl and spoon and headed towards Charlie, placing her items down on the table. "I think you've made your point and have crossed into the territory of being mean. You know I like it better when you're _nice_." Brittany repeated grabbing a bowl and a spoon and heading towards Charlie. She places all three items down on the island and turns to look at Charlie, reaching and brushing the hair out of her face, the hard look was back in Charlie's eyes. It was getting more and more common and it was getting harder to pull her out of it. She probably wasn't sleeping again.

Charlie sighed and placed her hand on Brittany's gently, pulling it away and bringing it to her lips to kiss it gently. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Brittany smiled at the small gesture. They weren't dating, neither one of them could be bothered to make the extra effort that dating required. Charlie didn't love her not like that, never like that and she was fine with it. Not to mention the headache that dating would do to their respective companies. "I know. I generally am; right, that is." Brittany tilts her head toward Santana who was watching quietly, studying them. "You weren't actually going to go through with it were you?"

Charlie glances back at Santana for a moment, "No. I have no desire to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me. I actually have some self-respect," Charlie responds the last part a dig at Santana. It had been an interesting experiment, but Santana was not the person she remembered. The Santana she remembered would have rather _died_ than ever bow down to anyone. The damage that Quinn had done to Santana's psyche was astounding, and more importantly she doubted that Santana even realized how _weak_ she was.

Santana swallowed, she had no idea if Charlie had been serious or not but she was grateful for the rescue. "I just need your help Charlie, that's all. Once I get it you'll never have to see me again." When Charlie rolls her eyes and turns back to Brittany. "Quinn isn't _taking_ it well."

"Karma—"

"Quinn?" Brittany turned her head to focus on Santana once more. "You must be Santana!"

"Brittany." Charlie warns, it's enough to cause Brittany to turn back to her. Unfortunately Brittany crosses her arms over her chest, which meant that there were more questions coming and possibly more judgement.

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"Someone, broke her back," Santana insists immediately. "They broke her back and now she can't walk, and I was hoping that Charlie could come up with a _device_ or use that brain of hers to help fix her. Or at the very least get her into an experimental program at Prometheus—or maybe make a call and have her accepted into one at Pierce industries."

"Pierce industries is certainly a better company than _Prometheus_." Brittany murmurs with a smirk, winking at Charlie who merely rolls her eyes. But admitting someone into a medical trial wasn't something that could just be done on a whim. Screwing around with FDA trials was more than sloppy, it was _dangerous_. "But you'd be on a waiting list for _years_ and not even Charlie can just throw you into a medical trial. Unless, she's terminal. Is she—"

"She isn't. She's in a wheelchair, which as I've said is hardly the end of the world. Besides, neither one of our companies is actively working on spinal injuries. We're currently competing in robotics to replace limbs but fixing spinal damage is another thing entirely. There aren't any clinical trials for Quinn to join to begin with, at least not from either of our companies. And I can't just start a new trial, I have shareholders." Who basically let her do whatever she wanted but _still_.

"Charlie! Have you been spying on my company again?" Brittany puffs out her cheeks.

"Yes." Charlie responds. "Just like I know you're paying close attention to our new aerospace division."

Brittany grins, "The SEC is going to have another run at the two of us again aren't they?"

"Probably, you should hear my shareholders," Charlie sighs finally amused and blinks when she realizes that Santana was still standing there.

Santana swallowed, unsure of what to make of the conversation. It had taken a weird turn but the one thing she did understand was that both of them were saying that there was nothing that they could do. She was so sick of all the _supposed_ smart people telling her that there was nothing that they could do for her wife. The doctors had said it, even the healers had informed Santana that the damage was to extensive. Now apparently the two smartest people on the planet were telling her the same thing. "You mean to tell me that you two are smarter than God and there is absolutely _nothing_ you can do?"

"I have no inclination or incentive to help you." Charlie reminds her.

Brittany shrugs. "Really, I would if only to piss Charlie off, but medical science isn't really my strength."

"Only because you think that blood is 'icky' and cried when you found out they tested medical breakthroughs on animals." Charlie pointed out.

Brittany shrugged and studied Santana for a moment, feeling a bit bad for her, she looked upset. "Charlie, Quinn is your sister."

"She's adopted."

"You're identical twins," Brittany responded flatly.

"That's what my parents keep telling me. Probably why I stopped talking to them years ago." Charlie shakes her head, "I don't have time to fix her. I need to finish working on Aegis, plus I've got to work on organ printing, there have been great advances in the technology, but if anyone is going to crack the code it is going to be me. Hopefully there's a Nobel Prize with my name on it."

Brittany bit her lip hard, trying to remember not to tease Charlie relentlessly about it. "What about that project that you started in MIT, before we started working on patents. You could in theory reengineer—" Brittany stopped when Charlie quirked a brow. "Oh." She smiles brightly, Charlie said and did a lot of mean things, and it was part of what made her a formidable CEO. It didn't mean that Charlie didn't have a good heart on the inside. "Well, don't be _that_ mean about it."

"I'll take that into consideration," Charlie responds shaking her head. Brittany was far too kind, and if Brittany wasn't her friend she would have gone after Pierce Industries with everything that she had. Her shareholders wanted it, but she had zero interest in simply taking Brittany's company. "Now, as far as I know the game room hasn't been destroyed so make yourself comfortable Britt, I need to work on the Aegis."

"Need some help?" Brittany asked, it could be like one of their projects again.

Charlie shook her head, "No, today is your day off, but I need to call Kurt and tell him to get the construction crew out here again. The neighbors are going to complain. Also tell him to get another car from the collection over here." Charlie sighed, it was going to be a noisy day and she truly didn't want to deal. She grabs all her papers and her tablet before turning to Santana. "You're still here?"

Santana grits her teeth. "I'll be your bodyguard." She offers. She's _desperate_ and that offer is almost worse than the idea of selling herself for sex but Quinn needs this.

"Why exactly?" Charlie cocks her head to the side, amused. It was an interesting proposal, and having a superhero of Santana's caliber working for her as a bodyguard—well her mythos would only grow in the superhero community. Plus given her various run-ins with superheroes, she was sure the board would approve. "I already told you that I don't have medical trials available."

"But you have _something_." Santana insists, knowing even as she says it that it's true. "And all I need is a promise that you'll _try_."

"And what would your precious hero-league think?" Charlie sneers. "The great Snixx working for the big bad evil Prometheus? You'd never be taken seriously again."

"I don't care." Santana declares without reservation. "I just— _we_ just need your help."

"Come on, Charlie-wan-Kenobi, you're their only hope." Brittany teased, nudging Charlie lightly.

"Fine, she'll be my bodyguard and Kurt's assistant. He's been dropping hints about how he needs one. I imagine he'll turn a nasty shade of purple when he sees that you're his newest bitch. It should amuse me to no end."

"Kurt handles your food remember?"

"Kurt's not going to poison me, he makes an insane amount of money being my assistant, he'll probably ask for a 15% raise though." Charlie shrugs, she'd be willing to give him a 30% raise if he asked for it, but he was too much of a suck up to ask.

"So you'll do it? You'll fix her?"

"Maybe not tomorrow, but—" Charlie sighs, she really needs to learn how to say no or something, she's clearly not as intimidating as she should be, "— _eventually_ I will fix her. Stop by my office Monday morning and we'll narrow down the specifics. Will you go now?"

Santana wasn't about to give Charlie a chance to change her mind. With nothing more than a heartfelt _thank you_ she spun on her heel and left as quickly as she could. At least now she had good news. Maybe this was the first step in a long journey to finally making this right.

~O~

"I thought we agreed that you were staying out of it Brittany." Charlie grumbles adjusting her suit. "This situation isn't _normal_ , I don't even really want Santana working for me. Do you know how much in _damages_ she's bound to cause? All these superheroes are nothing more muscle-bound meatheads, who cause far too much death and destruction in their wake because they have rather fragile egos and they like showing off their _dicks_ in all that damn skin-tight outfits."

' _I was looking at your designs, and I know you have a few working prototypes, but it should only take you two weeks before you could start medical trials if you really wanted too. I mean I don't think this is going to be the treatment, it shouldn't be the cost for one treatment is already a few million dollars. You should at least patent it though.'_ Brittany continued as she flipped through Charlie's technical designs, it was brilliant work, she could have done better but Charlie was probably her mental equal or a very close second. ' _Also, I like looking at the costumes—it doesn't leave much to the imagination.'_

"You _perv—"_

 _'_ _Don't even try to pretend you didn't like seeing Snixx in that skin-tight suit.'_ Brittany threatens.

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Charlie responds shaking her head. "I don't even—"

" _How dare you_!"

"I'll call you back Brittany, Kurt's throwing a fit for whatever reason." Charlie responds turning to look at her assistant as she hangs up to avoid Brittany's delighted cackle. "What do _you_ want?"

"Oh don't give me that line. You stuck me with a _super_."

"You wanted an assistant." Charlie notes feigning disinterest. Truthfully she found it amusing as hell to ruffle Kurt's feathers but the only thing that made it _better_ was when he thought she didn't understand.

"I _wanted_ a piece of eye candy that I could command at my will." Kurt corrects pointedly. "Not some brain-dead grunt of a _woman_."

"Sexism, much?"

Kurt gasps incredulously. "Don't you _dare_." He points his finger at her. "You're just doing this to mess with me. I won't work with some idiot _super_ that thinks that black and red is a justifiable color scheme. This is some elaborate prank, right? April fools?"

Charlie sighed as she walked into her office placing her briefcase on her glass table, as she took a seat in her chair leaning back so she could look at him. "I'm _tired_ of super heroes _breaking into_ my house, attacking the people who work at my company and being a pain in my ass. So I've decided that I need a bodyguard. However, when I'm in the office she's going to need _something_ to do. What's the saying? Oh right, two birds one stone."

Kurt frowned, she was doing this to get under his skin. He just _knew_ it, it was no wonder she had gone through several assistants before he had gotten this job. Now he lived in a lovely penthouse apartment, because of his hard work. He would quit but he wasn't going to get paid a fraction of what Prometheus was paying him. Prometheus was profitable and it had some of the best benefits of any company. People _wanted_ to have his job. "Do you _honestly_ think her superhero outfit is _appropriate_ work attire? Cause if it is, I'm going to wear assless chaps tomorrow to make a point."

Charlie frowned slightly, Kurt, unfortunately, had a valid point. Santana _couldn't_ just wear her uniform around Prometheus. If anything it would be another headache that she didn't want to deal with. "Honestly Kurt, I get you a new assistant to boss around and you want to repay me by wearing assless chaps. I mean I suppose if you had a nice ass it wouldn't necessarily be _that_ bad. Besides, if I was hiring another assistant, even one that you're in charge of why shouldn't it be a piece of eye candy for me?"

"Because she's your _sister's_ wife." Kurt hisses, this was a disaster. Family drama was not conducive to Charlie's _process_. When her father had shown up two years ago demanding _money_ , Charlie had developed a creative block of sorts. There hadn't been any new cutting edge ideas for at least two weeks. Family drama was not good for her and part of his job was to keep Charlie away from such drama.

" _Details_." When Kurt didn't stop glaring at her, she sighed. "You _know_ as well as I do that my sister doesn't deserve her."

"You stayed out of it for a reason. It's why you didn't go to their wedding, it's why you didn't have me send them a decorative gravy bowl or something equally lame from their gaudy registry. Also it's why you _haven't_ visited your twin sister in years," Kurt reminded her checking off each point on his fingers.

"Trust me, I _am_ staying out of it. Unfortunately for me, she decided to break into my home, she's assaulted my employees and has destroyed part of my building. She's not going to go away until I do something and I like my _stuff_. Don't despair Kurt, we both know that you can make anyone quit in a few days. I mean if I wasn't worried about my company going belly-up in a few days then I'd quit as well."

Kurt scowled, "Fine, when this blows up in your face I'll simply remind you how I _told_ you so."

"Right, and I'll simply remember that I'm your boss and I can fire you for whatever I want." Charlie reminds him. "Now what's my schedule like today? And more importantly what's for lunch?"

He rolled his eyes dramatically. Of _course_ that's what she thought was most important. "It's a surprise." He informs her flatly. He's not going to be any more helpful than he needs to be, especially when she could look at her damn phone where he specifically updated the menu _and_ her schedule for the rest of the week. Every time he _didn't_ , she bitched about it, and every time he _did_ she asked what was for lunch. She could figure lunch out for herself since he knew Charlie wouldn't let herself starve, but if he didn't keep her on track with her meetings she'd blow them off and create some new form of space travel or something. "You've got a meeting with the head of R &D at 9, your 10 o'clock is a conference call with the Chinese factory about HR issues, and you've got Mr. Ryan coming in at 11—"

"Boring." Charlie huffs.

"Don't worry, your afternoon is mostly lab time—because I'm _fabulous_ I know what an ornery bitch you become if you don't get time to tinker with your expensive equipment."

"It's not tinkering."

"Whatever. You need to work with marketing today on your charitable donation strategy and then tonight you have that meeting with the professional dominatrix."

"I don't need you to plan my night life."

"You _do_ and I _am_. You need sex." Kurt corrects. "You've been extra bitchy lately so if you skip that meeting I'm approving myself for hazard pay."

Charlie shook her head, "It's not even sex, and it's just another form of release. Since paying for sex is technically illegal. Don't want those pesky superheroes breaking into my session and trying to haul me in," Charlie mutters mostly to herself. "Speaking of superheroes, I'll have a chat with her. By the way inform HR that I'm firing the head of the Aegis project. You know the drill, have security head down and clean out all their things and take back all the company phones. Also call IT to make sure to lock their account down, once they enter my office."

Kurt winced, "Really? He just had a kid—"

"Look at my face Kurt, does this face look like I give a fuck? I've let it slide, but there needs to be a new head—preferably someone who won't fuck up my pet project. I need a list of possible replacements by lunch. I'll interview them tomorrow."

"I already have a list compiled, I'll send it to you once he _leaves_ your office." Kurt knows Charlie too well, if he sends her the list now she'll have someone hired before she takes care of the _firing_ aspect.

"Excellent, now send her in Kurt, I'll have a talk with her about appropriate workplace attire." Charlie couldn't hide her smirk if she tried. That uniform really left _nothing_ to the imagination. It would be a shame, but she did have a business to run.

"If you can get her to quit, I'll send you an edible arrangement with the company credit card."

Charlie doesn't bother to dignify that with an answer, instead choosing to turn to her computer and turning it on. She really hoped that Santana didn't throw another tantrum. The last thing she needed was an angry call from the office manager about blowing the floor budget on a new fifty-thousand dollar desk. She was the CEO, it was a requirement to be imposing. Though given the amount of people who enjoyed yelling at her, it was questionable if her status held any real power. Maybe she needed to remind people that she could fire anyone on a whim.


	3. Volume 01: Issue 03

Quinn looks down at her phone, frowning when she notes that she still hasn't gotten a reply from her latest text message. Figures. It's not like everyone else is stuck at home with nothing better to do than to stare at their phone. But she's anxious and her OT had already been by today and Santana still wasn't home.

Where the hell was she? It was already after five and it's not like they lived that far away from Prometheus. Santana was a damn superhero.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Santana, she cranes her neck to the side, trying to work out the stiff tight muscles that are going to end up giving her a migraine. She knew Santana loved her and felt a little terrible about the fracture in their relationship that she felt powerless to stop. Santana was her best friend and since high school there had been a competitive streak that pushed both of them to reach their full potential, both academically and in their crime-fighting activities.

But something had changed, long before the incident. Quinn shakes her head. That had nothing to do with her nerves tonight. If there was any other way to get herself out of this chair, Quinn gladly would have taken it. All day she had been trying not to remember Charlie's high school crush on her wife. She tried to forget the way Charlie had designed a super suit specifically for Santana, she had even created the material to go with it. When she remembered how Charlie would creep around the swimming pool every summer, hoping to get a glimpse of Quinn's then-girlfriend, she forced herself to stay busy.

She wasn't jealous. That would be ridiculous. She was fairly certain Santana had never even had a clue of Charlie's feelings but it didn't make it easier for Quinn. Charlie was brilliant and successful. Before, when Quinn had her powers, none of that seemed to even come close to being a threat, but now? Now it felt like it was going to drive her insane.

Santana was only doing this for her and even then they had talked about it for hours. It was exhausting and Quinn tried not to think about the complications. Santana wanted this fix, but who said Charlie was even going to really try?

She wheels herself toward the kitchen and moves some things on the counter, trying to stay busy. If this were some movie Santana would step in the door right then full of heartfelt apologies. But it's not. She waits another half an hour before the sound of the door makes her head snap up just as the door slams shut again.

"You're home late." The words come out before she can stop them. She moves quickly toward the dining room to get a good look at her wife. Her wife that had spent the entire day with her able-bodied twin sister. "How'd your day go?" Her eyes narrow at the expensive designer bags that there is no way they can afford.

Santana drops the bags unceremoniously on the nearest couch. "First thing in the morning, I got into an argument with your twin about proper work attire. I'm not allowed to wear my uniform while I'm working with her. Then because she's a sadist, she handed her assistant her personal credit card and informed him to put me in something appropriate, but not to make me look like a nun despite what HR suggested, apparently your twin sexually harasses her underlings."

"Sounds like her."

Santana shifts so she can sit up, reaching for Quinn's hand. "I mean today was crap, I spent most of the day simply following her around. I mean I watched as she fired some guy who had just had a baby. He got escorted out of the building and everything, it was brutal. She's brutal. Makes sense—she is a super villain."

"How can we be sure she's going to keep her word? You just said it yourself she's a supervillain!"

"Because we don't have another option." Santana admits frankly. She had been over this time and time again today, but there really wasn't another choice. "But it's not all bad."

"How in the world is it not all bad?" Quinn pulls her hand away incredulously. "She's a villain and your career is basically over. No one is going to take you seriously ever again."

"But what good did that ever get us?" Santana points out. "Our money troubles are basically over. Plus if Charlie does get attacked I get hazard pay. And do you want to know how long it is before you and I get full insurance benefits?"

"No."

"Tomorrow." Santana sighs, pleading with Quinn to understand. "Yeah, there are other aspects that absolutely suck, but this is a real chance for us."

"Tomorrow? For the both of us?" Quinn questions, most places would make you wait a few months.

Santana nods a smile on her face, at least something was going their way. "I already filled out the paperwork. It covers everything, including experimental drugs and procedures. So even if Charlie doesn't keep her promise Quinn we've still got a fighting chance. Prometheus may be fucking evil, but the benefits are amazing." When Quinn hesitates she quickly moves Quinn's chair so she's looking directly at her. "I'm not going to stop hounding Charlie though. She went to the lab today and the first question I asked, even though Kurt told me not to, was when she was going to fix you. This is still the best thing for us."

"The best thing for you, right? So you don't have to worry about the burden of a damn cripple." Quinn snaps.

"You're my wife, I made a vow remember. For better or for worse and this is just a bad period for us. But we'll get over it, we both need to adjust. I know how important it is for you to be able to walk again, _that's_ why I'm doing this. Because it's something that you want Quinn. I mean yeah I'd love for you to be able to walk again, but if you don't it's not the end of the world. We'll _manage_. You not being able to walk doesn't _change_ anything for me, I still love you." Santana promised earnestly, meaning every word. How could Quinn think that she would just up and abandon her?

"I just—I don't _trust_ her." Quinn mutters finally. "I don't trust this, she has hired super thugs into Prometheus and everyone knows she's building a super powered army. She's been brought in for charges of racketeering and general super villainy—"

"Might as well be called assholery." Santana grumbles.

"But the only thing they've been able to _actually_ have stick was a sodomy charge that the DA was terrified to charge her with—"

"Don't forget the time she was guilty of carrying an ice cream cone in her pocket." Santana adds. It was pathetic, really, but _everyone_ had been trying to get Charlie for years. It was technically still illegal in New York to congregate with two or more people while wearing a mask, which made Superhero League Meetings a little uncomfortable. No one had brought that up yet, but Santana was waiting for it.

"She's _untouchable."_

"I know, she's _rich_ which means the laws don't really apply to her. She has a huge team of lawyers at her disposal and apparently she dines with the president once a month. Who knows how many judges and politicians and police officers she has in her pocket. I know that she makes a _very_ generous contribution to the police department."

Quinn slumps in her chair, her twin was absolutely unreachable. It bothered her to no end that her twin sister had been a fixture on Forbes '30 under 30' since she had been twenty. That it didn't really feel like they were twins anymore. It had been like that for _years_ , though. Ever since Charlie had been shipped off to that fancy boarding school for geniuses. Yes, perhaps if she hadn't tormented Charlie when she visited for summer vacation and during holidays then things may have been different. Charlie might have actually attended their wedding. "Well, you're going to be working very closely with her aren't you? Maybe you can use that to find some dirt on her? Like we can sell it to the superhero community that you've gone deep undercover. So you can _actually_ catch her slipping up."

Santana shakes her head. She's already thought of every possible angle. "And if she goes to jail, then what? We're no better off than we were before. Prometheus is Charlie, which is why she gets away with murder with her investors."

Quinn hates being out of control and she hates being out of control to _Charlie_ even more. "So we use it as leverage. We can use her illegal activities against her."

"Blackmail?" Santana asked incredulously, she knew Quinn was desperate but between the two of them Quinn had always been the _good one._ But now Quinn was coming off desperate and she wasn't quite sure _why_. Yes Quinn wanted to walk, she wanted to be a hero again but to throw away your morals over it? It made no sense to her. "Quinn, we _can't_ stoop down to her level."

" _Why_? Why can't we? Charlie is a _supervillain_ who is hell-bent on taking over the world."

"That's _exactly_ why we can't." Santana insists. "If we go low, it's Charlie's advantage and I know that us attempting to sling mud that probably won't stick will amuse her to no end. So let's give her time, I don't know how her mind works but you can't just expect a device that will make you walk tomorrow. Otherwise Charlie would have given it to us already if only so I stopped breaking her shit."

Quinn sighed, Santana was right. Charlie _would_ probably find the whole amusing, or simply set them up to fail. "So she really is working on it?"

"Well, no. According to Kurt, you know her secretary and the person who basically controls every aspect of her life, she's currently busy with some classified military project that needs to be completed by the end of the quarter. Apparently the guy that she fired was behind schedule, and had made a mess of the prototype. So Charlie replaced him, like this contract is super important to Prometheus."

Quinn nods even though she doesn't completely understand. "Okay so then—"

"Then she's working on creating organ printing, she's going to fix the organ shortage and save millions of lives—"

"Are you fucking kidding me? She can help complete strangers but she can't help me?" Quinn snapped before frowning. "I think I need to visit my sister."

Santana hesitated for a moment, it was obvious that Charlie disliked her twin on a personal level and she had shoved Charlie in the direction that she wanted. But she hadn't done it without the help of Brittany Pierce. "Quinn, let me handle it and let's give her time to think of something. Besides, if they see you Quinn—if we make a scene we might be forcing our hand early. Part of Charlie's brand is that everyone in her company loves her. Maybe seeing you will shatter some of that mystique. So let's avoid pissing her off for now."

Quinn frowns, but has to concede. Santana's right, pissing Charlie off now isn't going to get them anywhere. "Fine. We'll give her a few weeks, but if there isn't any progress, then we're done with her."

"Whatever you say," Santana agrees leaning forward to kiss Quinn's forehead. "So how did your occupational therapy go?" She needed to bring the subject _away_ from any more talk about Charlie and asking Quinn about her day might be for the best.


	4. Volume 01: Issue 04

**AN: Reviews are always nice. I do like them. Juuuust saying.**

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"Uh, why is there a camera crew set up in the boardroom?" Santana asked heading towards the large desk that she shared with Kurt. She had been given a small corner of that desk, despite the fact that Kurt didn't need half of the space. It was something that pissed her off to no end, but she had an inkling that Kurt was trying to break her.

Kurt looked up at Santana and frowned, despite his best efforts Santana hadn't quit. "And here I thought you'd quit—what are you carrying?"

Santana glances at the brown paper bag in her hand, "My wife made me lunch." Santana smiled, it was thoughtful, especially since her wife had struggled to make the sandwich, and soup. Making things in the kitchen was still difficult for Quinn. They were trying to put off the kitchen remodel until Charlie could give them a definitive answer. Though they were saving. She had noticed Charlie getting food brought to her, delicious smelling food that was delivered to her office daily but she wasn't some fancy CEO that got lunch delivered to her desk. She had seen the restaurant as well, but the food had looked expensive and she couldn't justify that expense when most of her recent check had gone to paying back their mountain of debts.

" _Cute_ ," Kurt drawled shaking his head as he wondered why he was stuck with the country bumpkin. People who worked at Prometheus got free food, but he hadn't bothered to mention that to Santana or the benefits of her working here. All she had really cared about was the health benefits, well if she wanted to be the odd one out because she carried a bagged lunch then that was on her.

Santana sees his dig clearly but chooses to ignore it, she wasn't going to let him get to her with all his snide comments. "So, about the camera crew? And the swarm of people in suits?"

"Well, after last year's disastrous AMA interview—" Kurt paused and sighed at the confused look on Santana's face, of course she wouldn't know social media if it bit her in the ass. He was going to have a long talk with Charlie about moving her to something more her speed. "Ask me anything, where she talks with the public. It was _horrid_ , it got co-opted by the morality police who were more concerned at how Charlie treats women in general. About how there aren't that many women on her board or working in positions of management. Charlie was—well herself, and it was a PR nightmare. The board banned her from doing any _impromptu_ interviews since then. So this is merely another television interview with one of the major news networks. As for the people in suits, this is a _business_."

"Yeah but—"

"Those are the political analysts and strategists to see if there can be a Fabray presidency in the near future. They want to start testing the waters, doing extensive opposition research and prepping Charlie on world affairs now. Of course, she'll probably be taking me with her but I don't think I could _survive_ on a government worker's salary."

Santana paused for a moment, "Wait, she wants to be _president_? Look, I know the oxygen up here is pretty thin, being on the top floor of a giant skyscraper but no one is going to _vote_ for her. A lot of people think she's a supervillain, and those that don't—well there's no way that she can connect to the average voters. She loves to rub it in my face that she's and I quote 'Filthy fucking rich.' You think every day people are going to connect with that type of attitude?"

"She'd of course be financing her own campaign completely, and only taking campaign donations from the _people_. She's a _job_ creator, she's charismatic when she wants to be and more importantly she's the smartest person in the world and the whole premise of Prometheus is that she wants to make the world better. As for being one of the billionaire class, Charlie pays people more than a living wage. Not to mention the various perks of working here, including things that help _families_. As for the superhero community thinking that she's a _supervillain_ , she doesn't _want_ their vote. Now, I'm sure you can make yourself busy, with all that paperwork that is on my desk. If Prometheus is going to be paying you your inflated salary I suggest that you _earn_ it."

Santana frowned, Kurt was an ass. Sure she had agreed to be his assistant, but first and foremost she was Charlie's bodyguard. "I'm not here to be your _lackey_ ," she mutters, heading straight for the desk.

"Please, like I would hire you to be my subordinate. You're here to be Charlie's slack-jawed lackey. You're doing a terrible job at it and you're lucky the quarterly review was last month. Now, get to work, Charlie's vacation is in two weeks and I'd rather not call her when she's on her little sabbatical. So I want to put out all and every potential fire so this business can run smoothly while she's gone."

"Vacation? She seems like she's a workaholic." Santana presses trying to get information out of Kurt as she glances at Charlie who is looking at some papers, her lips were moving and it was possible that she was talking to herself.

Kurt shifts his tablet, "Look. I don't care how terrible this sounds but I don't actually give a rat's ass about your wife not being able to walk. I also don't approve of Charlie giving in to a _terrorist_ , which is _exactly_ what you are, but here you are. This is a _business_. One that treats its workers well, even if you're just a janitor or the mail guy. More importantly you can always move up in the company, Prometheus will pay for any courses that you take. Your _sister-in-law,_ the one that you think is some _villain,_ is one of the greatest minds on the planet. Her inventions have helped _millions_ of people, it has advanced the scientific community _decades_ and yet you and your _'wife'_ are demanding that she stop helping millions of people just so she can benefit. But _you're the_ good guys?" He shakes his head derisively. "So get your head out of our ass. She has a _process_ and I know that the worst thing you can possibly do is to try and rush that."

Santana feels her blood boil at being spoken down to. "A _process_? She's not even trying!"

"You think a major-medical breakthrough is just going to zap itself into existence if Charlie wishes hard enough?" Kurt scoffs. "No. So get to work. This is _not_ the time for us to let Charlie get distracted by some idiot in a spandex suit." He pauses for a moment, "And how do you _know_ if she's not working on it? Even if you were to see her designs or research you wouldn't even know what it was."

Santana opens her mouth to argue but realizes that he's unfortunately completely right. Were blueprints to some evil master plan much different than blueprints for whatever was going to save Quinn? She narrows her eyes and glances down at the desk in front of her. "Whatever pipsqueak. So what am I supposed to do?"

Kurt ground his teeth in annoyance but bit down in a rare attempt to remain professional. He'd need to save all that goodwill for tearing into Charlie for this complete and utter nightmare. Wordlessly, he points to the computer.

"If your husband was in the same position as my wife you wouldn't be just taking it." She notes.

"A, I'm not married—dating, yes but married no, and B, unlike you she _tolerates_ me so I would at least get updates." He smirks triumphantly. "Not to mention that I control her schedule so maybe you should stop pissing off the _one_ person who can actually control if Charlie has time to channel her genius."

Santana scowled at him but immediately took a seat, watching as Kurt knocked on the window to Charlie's office. This wasn't what she had expected. Everyone she talked to, every lasts person seemed to be on Charlie's side. It was maddening. It was like a cult. "You know, we used to be really good friends. She designed the fabric for my costume."

"Clearly the greatest invention of all time. Doesn't even compare to the time she created nanotech." Kurt rolls his eyes. What more did he have to do to make this super quit?

~O~

Santana groaned as she made her way to the front door, all she wants to do is curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book and maybe Quinn curled up beside her. Just like old times, it would stop her from worrying about how her unholy alliance with Prometheus would most likely cause a villain apocalypse. She unlocks the front door and immediately kicks off her shoes. "Quinn, I'm back—I managed to avoid getting stuck guarding her. She had some charity gala to attend, about education. I don't know, Kurt was going to make me go but then he realized how much effort it would take to get me in something that screamed elegance. I mean I could pull it off but then your sister informed him that she didn't need a babysitter and—" she nearly trips over some shoes and stumbles into the living room.

"San?" Quinn frowned slightly and immediately began to wheel to her wife. "You're home early. I didn't think you'd be back early and I invited Rachel over for company."

"Oh god, Yentl is here?" Santana whined immediately. Sure they were all friends but, she had just had a long day at the office. She wanted to be with her wife and have a glass of wine.

"I'm right here Santana," Rachel responded flatly causing Santana to shoot a smirk at her. Rachel rolls her eyes and immediately turns her attention back to the television which was playing an interview. It was odd, watching Quinn's identical twin sister on the camera. "We were watching your boss's interview. While I understand _why_ you went to work for her—given her stance on superheroes—" Rachel shook her head angrily.

Santana tilted her head to the television, no wonder Quinn hadn't heard her come in. She makes a face, "So that's the interview that she gave today? Is this is another fluff piece about how she is donating to some charity to rebuild schools and create schools? I mean haven't enough people kissed her ass? I actually _liked Bill Maher_ until he started kissing her ass."

"You didn't know what it was about?" Quinn turned to her wife. "She's talking about her last senate hearings, and how she insisted that there should be some sort of _registration_. That people with superpowers, should be registered with the government before they can go about saving people's lives. That the government should know our identities and we shouldn't hide behind a mask."

"That's how it starts. They want to be able to identify us so if we get into another pointless war, then they can force into it. They'll force us to wear something that _identifies_ us as a hero. The public will know, villains will be able to go after our loved ones—and what happens if we don't want to register? What happens, then? Do they start rounding us up? Forcing us into camps?" Rachel asks studying Santana. "That's how these things start."

Santana groaned, Rachel was being dramatic again. And it seemed that she was getting Quinn worked up as well, "I think this is just to stop us from being able to take her in. She mentioned something about a lawsuit for malicious prosecution or something—"

"Santana, with her publicly supporting this, it's going to put a target on her back. People are going to start redoubling their efforts to try and bring her in. I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire. I don't want you to get hurt. People are going to figure out it's you once you use your powers for the first time defending her," Quinn interrupted. "So maybe get her to hurry up and get out?"

"I can't, I got this huge fucking lecture about how these things take time. I'm trying to get on her _good_ side so maybe she decides to keep me updated. I mean if Charlie designed the fabric for my uniform and it didn't take her that long—"

"Yes, because she wanted to _sleep_ with you," Quinn muttered. Santana had defended Charlie before, always citing that damn fabric. She was running low on the stuff and it wasn't as if there was a store that sold it. "Come on I thought you knew? My sister doesn't do anything altruistically."

Santana bit the inside of her lip that made sense. But she hadn't told Quinn about Charlie's attempts to make her into a whore. Nothing had happened and she had a sneaking suspicion that Charlie simply wanted to make a point. The person she had known when they were kids had been all for heroes, had helped her design her costume and had created the fabric for it, and so what if Charlie had liked her back then. "She did stop coming home for breaks after we became an item," Santana mused.

"Well, it was that coupled with the fact that I got superpowers, and I got to be a superhero and she didn't," Quinn pointed out. Sure, there may have been some fights where Charlie had _pushed_ her into using her own powers on her. But that was simply because Charlie wouldn't get it through her thick skull that Santana was her girlfriend. Charlie was probably enjoying the fact that she was _helpless_.

"Look, I'll be the first one to call your sister an _asshole,_ she is. A giant gaping one. I mean she's a fucking prick and if she wasn't sleeping with Brittany Pierce. I might still be trying to force her to cure you. But Prometheus isn't _that_ bad. I mean sure it's a bit of a cult and they think Charlie is the second coming of Christ or something but she can't be _that bad_. She is going to cure you, she _promised_ and I'd like to believe, I have to believe that my old friend, and your sister is still in there underneath all of that. We have a deal and I'll honor it as long as I think Charlie is honoring her end of the bargain."

Quinn glanced at Rachel for a moment and shook her head, this was how it started. She sighed, "She couldn't even visit me in the hospital. She never came to our wedding. I think the person we knew as a kid is _dead_. I don't think she's in there, I think she's been jealous that I have everything that she's ever wanted and even if she does keep her promise. She'll make an excuse, and maybe I'll be able to walk again in ten years or twenty years. It's not as if she doesn't _know_ about her reputation in the superhero community, and it's not as if she doesn't know that being attached to her will mean that you'll be shunned and—" Quinn stopped and closed her eyes. "You should quit. I don't want you to end up in a body bag because some hero is trying to get to her."

"I know Finn is already talking about making a strike against Charlie and Quinn's right. People _will_ find out that you are protecting the biggest advocate against powers out there. The damage it could do to your reputation is something you could never come back from." Rachel agreed with Quin wholeheartedly. "Santana, as your friend—"

"That's just it, Hobbit. You're my _friend_ , not my mother thank god. So why don't you get out of here so my _wife_ and I can have this discussion?" Santana snaps quickly. She's at the short end of her rope and doesn't have the patience to put up with Rachel's incessant nagging.

Quinn shoots her a look of clear disapproval. "San—" She warns, glancing up at Rachel apologetically.

Rachel moves behind Quinn in a silent show of support, gently squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. "You have more people that care about you than just Quinn. None of us want you to get hurt."

"Who says I will?"

"Who says? Who _has_ to say you'll get hurt?" Quinn shakes her head exasperatedly. "Santana, we're _heroes_. We're the _good guys_ and associating with Charlie is only going to make things more complicated. If doing this for me—"

"No. I don't want to hear it." Santana interrupts. She's not going to let Quinn be selfless here. They are so close to getting everything they could ever need. She hasn't come this far just to back out now, especially not when they are practically inches away from the finish line. She takes a deep breath, softening a little at Quinn's furrowed brow, "I get that you're worried, but this is the best plan for us. You _know_ that and I'm not backing out now."

"I just want you to be safe." Quinn admits softly. She knows better than anyone just how easily a situation can go badly. Collateral damage is par for the course and it's just a matter of time before that catches up to Santana too. "Who knows how long she is going to make you work for her." A frown crossed her face when Santana reached for her jacket again. "Where are you going?"

"To get a timeline."

Quinn startles at that. "And you think you can trust her to stick to whatever timeline? The fact is, Charlie is a manipulative villain who is only looking out for herself."

Santana spins around to face them, one hand on the doorknob as she yanked the front door back open. "Maybe I can't trust her. But we don't have another choice." She turns again and slams the door hard behind her.

~O~

Santana bursts into Charlie's office and frowns when the latter doesn't even bother to turn around. Of course, Charlie was here after the gala that she had attended. She should probably be startled at the naked woman straddling Charlie's chair, but she's not. She's here for answers. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Charlie groans and barely glances toward Santana before refocusing on the display in front of her. It was one of the perks of the job and it pissed her off to have her few moments of relaxation interrupted. "What do you want?"

"I want a timeline." Santana crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm tired of you jerking me around like some prized pet. We had a deal, you _owe_ it to me to tell me what's going on."

"I don't owe you shit." Charlie snaps quickly, pushing the nameless brunette to the side and standing up to face Santana. "We made a _deal_ and I am upholding that agreement despite your complete lack of professionalism and manners. You've worked for me for two weeks, _two weeks_ , and you expect me to have worked some goddamn miracle? Get your head out of your ass."

Santana swallowed her anger down, she wasn't being fair. It hadn't been _long_ , she had no idea what went into creating something that would get Quinn to walk again. Yet she just wanted someone to give her a straight answer, to have an idea of how long this would take. She needed to give Quinn _something_. She knew that there were trials and some didn't pan out but this was important to her. "Look, I get that you were in love with me or whatever, and you think Quinn stole everything from you, but Quinn—"

Charlie snorts derisively, watching as the brunette immediately began to cover herself up there went her evening. "I'm sorry Tatiana. But I did warn you that doing it in my office was risky, people seem to think that they can just barge in on me like this. I'll call for a ride home, I need to deal with this intrusion." Charlie grasped Tatiana's hand and flashed her a charming smile as she pressed her lips to her hand.

"Of course, you can pick up where you left off," Tatiana mumbled glancing at Santana angrily before working on slipping on her underwear as she got up out of the chair and made her way out of the office.

Charlie watches her go before taking a seat in her chair and putting her feet on the glass table. "So, let me see if I understand where this conversation is going. You're going to accuse me of being some _pathetic_ petty loser who is still pining after you? As you can see I'm not _hurting_ for companionship."

"Companionship? God look at you. You're cheating on your girlfriend and you don't even care—"

"Brittany _isn't my_ girlfriend. I like to have sex, it helps clear my mind. But that's beside the point. Are you really here to claim that I'm doing all of this in some silly attempt to what? Win you back? You've been married to my twin for years. I'm certainly not a homewrecker."

"You tried to force me to have sex with you. So yes, I think you have some _unresolved_ feelings towards me."

Charlie studies Santana for a moment, "I did it because it amused me. You and Quinn dismissed my intellect because it wasn't some _flashy_ super power. Having you on your knees begging me for help, well yes, I do have some unresolved feelings but it certainly has nothing to do with a silly crush I had when I was sixteen."

Santana frowns. That's exactly what she had thought up until Charlie said it like that. Her mind races for a moment, trying to piece together the perfect way to get under Charlie's skin. "You mean your unresolved issues that come from the fact that you were jealous of Quinn for getting super powers? That your mom and dad understood that _better_ than they understood you? I get it you hate Quinn because of that, but that wasn't her fault. I mean supporting a registration act? All this just to _hurt_ Quinn?"

"If I wanted to hurt Quinn there were a million ways that I could do it. Letting her deal with the consequences of her own actions isn't one of them. And yes. I do support registration, you are a weapon of mass destruction. I have no idea why the government wants to subsidize _brawls_ in the streets, where buildings and livelihoods are _destroyed_ and lost without a second thought. When did we think that as a society collateral damage was a good thing? If we hold our _police_ to a higher standard, they have protocols for certain situations and more importantly they are trained. Poorly in some cases but they are trained. The vast majority of superheroes are a _danger_ because those same safeguards are not in place and most of you are showboating and have zero training. You are nothing more than costumed vigilantes and people you give you a pass because of what exactly? You stop the other weapon of mass destruction while destroying three city blocks? While _innocent_ people get caught in the crossfire?" Charlie inhales sharply and tries to relax. "Damn right I support the registration act."

"And what about those who don't register—"

"Then they can't be heroes. They can't get into brawls in the street, they can get a job like everyone else. Maybe finally the government will finally start having a special force for dealing with such threats in a way that makes sense. Where we don't laud _hypocrites_ for stopping other people for breaking the law and injuring civilians in the process." Charlie frowned at Santana.

Santana scowled and took a step back, there was so much conviction in Charlie's voice, she seemed so sure that this was the right thing to do. "Maybe you're right and this isn't about Quinn at least not like that, but I have people saying to me that you're just using me. That you're not going to keep your word."

"I don't _have_ a timeline," Charlie admits after a moment, raising a hand before Santana could start bitching at her. "Technology isn't like what you think it is. Given the complexity of this, there are other technologies that need to be developed before I can even begin to put it together in a way that makes sense given Quinn's condition. She's going to either need to _regrow_ the nerves or have them repaired. Both of those technologies don't exist right now and I'm currently working on it. Even still, it might still take a year. Perhaps two. And that's only for me to finally work out all the various technologies. That doesn't even begin to include clinical trials and what not. As I've said before, I've seen Quinn's medical reports. Quinn will probably be able to walk again on her own with the right people. She might not be able to be a hero again, but she'll be able to walk, she'll be mobile. I never went to medical school though so again take that as you will."

"You brag about being the smartest person in the _world_ and you're telling me it's still going to take years?" Santana closed her eyes. "She doesn't even want me to work for you, I said I'd give you a heads up. The heroes they're going to start gunning for you hard. All of them—"

"If you don't want to be my bodyguard anymore that's fine. Kurt will be ecstatic and will stop bitching at me and glaring at me like I killed his cat."

"I—we can't afford it. All the medical bills and everything without this job. So, I was going to stay anyway," Santana admits. If Charlie was right then they were going to need to get better therapists for Quinn, and that would cost money. She was giving them more options than they had. "She's my wife and I'd never forgive myself if I didn't do everything in my power to help her, to make her happy and healthy."

Charlie didn't say anything as she studied Santana. "So then stop complaining like I'm the bad guy in this. You have a choice. We all do. Just stop throwing your tantrums at me. I don't care about your problems except when you start destroying my stuff and interrupting my sex life. Now go away, perhaps Tatiana is still around and will forgive me for your terrible manners."

"Why does it matter? You're going to have someone new on your arm tomorrow." Santana pointed out as she turned to leave. Why couldn't her life just be simple?


	5. Volume 01: Issue 05

**Reviews make the world go round.**

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The sound of heels clicking against her marble floors was enough to force Charlie to look up from where she was currently doing her daily routine. Her mind was her greatest asset but that didn't mean that she could allow her body to deteriorate. She would eventually figure out the keys to immortality and youth, but until then her body was a finely tuned machine for her mind.

"I brought _donuts_!" Brittany said cheerfully glancing down at Charlie as she wagged the bag of goodies.

Charlie stopped in the middle of her push up and stared at the bag for a moment. One donut _probably_ wouldn't kill her, and it was probably a lot tastier than the healthy goop that she had in her fridge. "What are you doing here Brittany?"

Brittany watched noting that for a split second Charlie's eyes were more iridescent than usual before they returned to their normal hue. "You know, if you ever decided to bring those to market, I have some non-military applications that you may be interested in."

Charlie stood up, and reached for the bag of donuts only for Brittany to pull it out of her reach and twist away a smile on her face. "Brittany."

"What you working on, and don't say the New York Times Crossword puzzle, it wasn't one of their better ones today, it wouldn't take you _that_ long to finish it." Brittany said flopping down on Charlie's couch and putting her feet up and opening the bag.

Charlie rolled her eyes and flicked her hand toward her television, "You never answered my question by the way. According to the schedule that Kurt keeps sending me, you're supposed to be in Hong Kong. Don't you have an expansion that you're working on?" The television begins to project the schematics that she's been working on in augmented reality.

Brittany leans forward immediately and begins to study the designs that Charlie was flipping through. She had never specialized in biological sciences like Charlie, but she understood enough chemistry and biochemistry to keep up. "I think the deal might fall through if I'm around," she admits after a moment. "Have you run any tests to at least _attempt_ to make an organ?"

Charlie grunted as she took a seat beside Brittany, reaching for the bag of treats. "Some organs are _easier_ to create than others, there is still quite a bit we don't understand about all the various proteins in the body. A _heart_ , maybe a _lung_ , would be easy or at least easier than creating a kidney or a liver—"

"What about certain cell types? Schwann cells are used for axonal regeneration," Brittany interrupted turning to Charlie who frowned at the idea. "You _must_ have realized that you could use this to help your sister, you _promised_. Don't be upset, this is a _massive_ breakthrough. Don't think about this as _helping_ Quinn, think about this as helping everyone else. Not just people who can't walk, but who knows what other applications that this can help with. You might not even need to finish this _3D_ organ printing that you're working on, with your nanotech, and this technology you can have targeted healing. We might not need organ transplants."

"What I know, is that _someone_ will find a weaponize it." Charlie responded finally taking a bite out of her donut. She might have even stumbled on something that would grant immortality. "The safest hands right now _are mine_. I'm aware of the _greater_ good argument, but the reason we decided to run our own companies, the reason we decided that we _weren't_ going to simply work for Sue—"

"Well I thought we agreed that Sue was crazy," Brittany interrupts again.

"She is. But I imagine there is a _method_ to her madness. I hope there is, or at the very least the evidence has shown that that she is highly capable at her job. However, the quest for knowledge can have devastating consequences especially when humanity isn't ready to handle that responsibility." Charlie finished the donut licking her fingers trying to get the sugar off them.

Brittany was quiet for a moment, she knew Charlie didn't believe what she was spewing. Prometheus had _several_ deals with the military, if anything the military was Prometheus's biggest company. "You know, if she was here—she'd tell you the story about Prometheus again."

 _"_ _Don't_."

"Charlie it's been _years_." Brittany sighs. Charlie wasn't the only person who had lost someone that day. "She would want you to move on."

"Bullshit." Charlie scoffs a soft smile tugging up at the corner of her lips despite herself. "We talked about it you know, as a joke. It's what couples do I guess. She told me if I ever got over her that she would haunt my ass."

"Fine. Okay. She was a jealous bitch." Brittany notes fondly.

"And she might not have told the story about Prometheus, it might have been Icarus."

"No it _definitely_ would have been Prometheus. You'd be Zeus, she'd be Prometheus telling you that you needed to share it with humanity. And you'd argue that humanity wasn't ready and somehow after you'd argue she'd end up tied to your bed. Really the two of you had the kinkiest sex."

"With you watching creepily in the corner?"

"What can I say, I like free porn." Brittany cleared her throat, "You always get angry around this time Charlie and I needed to make sure you weren't being cruel again."

"Is that the reason you're here? Kurt called you?" Charlie pulls back angrily. She was going to fire that little shit. He was probably punishing her because he hadn't managed to break Santana and get her to quit and he was probably annoyed that she was winning the office pool.

"No. I just _don't_ really want to be on a flight in my private jet to Hong Kong right now."

"You've spent months flying to Hong Kong, especially on a _whim_. So, what makes this time _different_?"

Brittany chewed her lip, hesitating. "No reason."

"Britt—"

"Fine. There's a _someone._ His family owns a toy company, the one that I'm buying. And he wants to become _serious_. So, we need to break up." She pauses for a moment before realizing how that could easily be misconstrued. "I mean me and you—"

Charlie raises a brow, "I wasn't aware that we were dating to begin with. Were we dating?"

Brittany scowls at Charlie and shakes her head swatting Charlie's arm gently. "I can't be serious with him and be _'not-serious'_ with you. I—really like him. But I don't want you to be by yourself either. You're not very good at being by yourself and I don't want you to sink Australia."

Charlie smiles a bit and shakes her head, "I'm not going to _sink_ Australia, well at least _not_ because you found someone that you _truly_ like. If anything, I'd conquer New Zealand or something."

"Charlie be _serious_." Brittany rolls her eyes, "and that's a terrible example because we could conquer New Zealand in an hour. We could call it New Kiwi or something. _Then_ what would we do?"

"I am being serious. Look, if you like him even a little bit, then you need to go for it. I would give up everything, my future, my company, my money, _all of it_ for just one more day with—" Charlie's voice catches and she shakes her head, unable to finish that thought. After clearing her throat, she sighs. "That feeling of being in love with someone you _know_ loves you in return? It's worth more than all this garbage that you and I have accomplished. How could I ever be upset that you want what I've already gotten?"

"Because you're a selfish jealous bitch?" Brittany chuckles softly, trying to diffuse the emotions surrounding them. She and Charlie had never been the type of friends to talk about _feelings_ , at least not like this.

"I am, and you are my best friend," Charlie admits openly. Someone who was her equal in _every_ way. "However, you tell him that if he hurts you then I will be forced to wipe Hong Kong off the map."

Brittany smiled for a moment before pausing, Charlie hadn't cracked a smile at the comment. "You're joking, right? I'm not sure if you're joking or not."

Charlie shrugs. "Neither am I."

Brittany taps Charlie's forehead, "No wiping countries off the map," she lectures playfully before looking at the time once again. "Especially since I think I need to be on a flight to Hong Kong right now," Brittany admits leaning in to kiss Charlie's cheek and getting up. She had seemed sincere which probably meant that some people were safe from her wrath at least for a little while. She felt guilty, this time of the year had always been Charlie's most vulnerable. She gets up and grabs her bag stopping to look at the design on the television. "You could heal Quinn tomorrow if you _truly_ wanted to."

"I don't want to." Charlie responds flatly, turning to look at Brittany. "Quinn took _everything_ from me. As far as I'm concerned her being in that chair is finally the universe balancing itself out."

"There is no scientific basis for karma. You don't _believe in_ karma." Brittany reminds her. "You feel vindicated because something bad happened to her. But think of the people you could help. Don't be _Zeus_ , share the fire."

"I'll think about it that's the best I can promise Brit," Charlie says shaking her head and laughing openly.

Brittany grins ignores Charlie's long-established rule about hugging and pulls her in, squeezing her tightly for good measure. "That's all I ask."

"Go to Hong Kong and get your boy." Charlie scrunches her face and pushes her away with playful disgust. Brittany was a good friend and she _would_ rain down hell on anyone who hurt her. She would just have to make sure Brittany never found out.

She waits until Brittany slams the door behind her before she rolls onto her back on her couch, glaring up at the weird shapes that the shadows make against the ceiling in the early morning and tries to will herself to sleep. She had spent most of last night in the _lab_ and if Kurt catches wind, he'll get that annoying concerned face, and she's not in the mood to put up with that right now. But at this moment right now she feels _exhausted_.

Really, she's not sure why she does this to herself. Brittany was right, it had been _years_.

Years that felt like centuries.

Normally she could go days or weeks without thinking about _her_ , but Brittany's new love interest combined with the time of year makes her overly nostalgic. She slides off her couch and heads to the office she no longer used stopping at the door. She taps the handle for a moment and closes her eyes trying to control the swell of emotion. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been in here for more than a moment. She swallows as her hand begins to shake as she pushes the door open entering it. There is a fine layer of dust and she knows that she should get her cleaning lady in here, but she can't be bothered. She drags her finger along the dust as she heads to the desk where there were a pile of envelopes and cards. She makes her way over and touches them feeling her eyes burn, as the tears begin to form, a lump forming in her throat.

She doesn't need to read the cards to know what they say, they had spent hours going over various invitations and fonts, and designs to get it right. They had spent weeks arguing over whether to do it in the fall or the winter. She had lost the fall argument. She knows that she should start packing this room up and throwing stuff out, but she can't. She taps the cards for a moment before turning around and closing the door gently behind her, she _needed_ some air.

~O~

"Are you _listening_ to me?"

Charlie flicked her eyes at Kurt for a moment before looking back down at the display in front of her. "Kurt, I've known you for _years_. You have asked that a question exactly one thousand, two-hundred and thirty-three times. Statistically speaking, I have answered 'no' to that question 89% of the time. In other words, it's a very good chance that _no_ I am not listening to you."

Kurt inhaled deeply, and counted to ten in his head. She was in a mood, he knew that it was getting close to that _time_. She was always moody around this time of year and her vacation couldn't come soon enough. "This is about the Aegis armor—"

"I was under the impression that I hired the _best_ people in the world to work on it. Yet, here we are. I basically rewrote most of the code a few weeks ago and drafted the code for a rudimentary artificial intelligence. If they can't keep up with it then fire the entire department and inform MIT, Caltech, and every single school that we hire direct from that their graduates are an abysmal failure, and they need to raise their standards, because it seems I'm getting bottom of the barrel instead of the top ten percent."

Kurt paused, knowing that he needed to choose his words carefully or he'd be out of a job for at least a week. He could _use_ a vacation, and he'd get one the moment Charlie took hers. Charlie had never fired an entire department before and he wasn't about to let her start now, the last thing he wanted was for Prometheus to get a reputation. "Before you go and fire your entire department thus putting the armor back several years, the department thinks that the prototype is ready for its first official test."

"I already _took_ it for a test run, and I noted the problems that I wished for them to look at before we did a _public_ test for the military."

"Well, to be completely honest you took a part of the Aegis for a test run. You didn't actually take the whole suit with you. They did however take a look into your most recent design and have added to it, completing the rudimentary AI. The Aegis is ready, if you checked the report, it shows you that it's capable of doing even _more_ than what the military initially wanted it for."

Charlie pulled up the report and flipped through it wordlessly. Her frown only getting deeper as she inspected the work.

"Charlie it's more than enough for the military, and you know how they get when it comes to things like this. They've already threatened to pull funding because we haven't had much to show them. It's not good business to piss off the people who control the various grants that we're getting."

"I'm aware at how late the Aegis armor has been, but we've been more than on time with all of our other projects and we've absorbed some of the cost of those products for more time because the Aegis hasn't been ready. It's not _just_ an exoskeleton. It's the great equalizer, so I don't give a _shit_ if it can lift as much as a front-end loader. I don't give a _shit_ if it's waterproof. I care that this armor will allow its wearer to go toe to toe with the greatest _superheroes,_ I care that this armor will protect its wearer from being collateral damage. This is what I care about, so all these specs that they're showing me mean _nothing_ if it can't do what I envision it to do." Charlie snapped at him.

"You _went_ toe to toe with a superhero, remember with _just_ the arm piece Charlie. It's not _perfect_ but we need to give the military _something_. They're getting impatient." Kurt immediately raised his hand. "I scheduled a meeting next week with General Sue and a few other higher ups to watch a _testing_ of the armor. Even if it's not ready letting them see what it can do might assuage them that we aren't just blowing through the grant with nothing to show for it. Do you really want to be dragged in front of _another_ senate hearing because the Aegis is the next Lockheed Martin's F-35? It'll destroy Prometheus's reputation. Because it's not _only_ our government that wants to get it's hands on the Aegis. We have allied countries willing to make purchases."

"You think senate hearings scare me? Bring it on, and I will remind Sue and whoever else wants to hear it that the lives this will save is worth the wait. Aegis is a joke if it can't live up to the standards that _I_ have for it. I _barely grazed_ a superhero that wasn't out to kill me. Aegis is supposed to be an _equalizer_ , not a cheap knockoff that gets us close."

Kurt was quiet studying Charlie, "We can't _use_ the super-powered people who are working for the company because they have a _record_. One that disqualifies them from working on government projects such as this one. We can't go to the strongest heroes and ask them for help, when you're out there informing the world that you think that they are dangers to society—I agree with you that they are but it's not winning us any friends. They certainly would never trust you with their secret identity so you could vet them properly. You can't fire them because they don't have the tools needed to _succeed_. How can they test how the Aegis will fair against some of the strongest heroes out there if they can't _test_ it on any superhero out there?"

Charlie frowned, Kurt had a point. She _loathed_ it when he had a point. It was also problematic that they didn't quite have a pilot for the Aegis either. At least not one that was stupid enough to take relatively untested technology and go toe to toe with some of the best superheroes in the world. She taps her fingers rapidly against her desk trying to figure out a solution to the problem. She was tempted to fire Kurt on principal, the suit simply wasn't ready. Not yet. Immediately she stands up and pushes past Kurt to head to his desk where Santana was pouring over some documents a miserable look on her face. "Santana."

Santana blinks looking up at Charlie who looks irritated beyond belief. There had been rumors across the top floor that there had been a _spate_ of firings as of late. But she wasn't going to cower for a shitty job that she really didn't want despite the fact that the pay was amazing. It was humiliating enough to have Kurt as her immediate superior. "Look, I'm supposed to be your bodyguard not your secretary. This is—"

"Stop talking, I don't need you to talk I need you to listen. You are being reassigned. Think of this as a promotion, or a demotion, I don't really care. I don't need you working behind a desk, Kurt's getting lazy. I need you to go down to one of my labs and let them run some tests on you."

Santana frowned at this, "What sort of tests? Is this for Quinn?" She presses immediately, she had heard them arguing over something. Kurt rarely raised his voice at her but he had done it a few moments ago. She personally thought that Kurt was a fucking leech but it was obvious that he _liked_ working at Prometheus and he enjoyed his job.

"In case you haven't realized Santana this is a multibillion dollar company and I have other projects that I need to work on—"

"Yes and I think you're a supervillain, so I have no intention of letting you cut me open or anything of the sort unless it has some benefit for Quinn," Santana interrupts snapping at Charlie.

Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose. She was surrounded by slow dundering _idiots_. "I don't want to cut you open, I want you test the Aegis. It needs to learn, but for that I need someone who has _powers_ to test it. You are currently the strongest person with superpowers on my payroll who hasn't been arrested. So, you're being reassigned."

Santana stared for a moment, there was some desperation in Charlie's voice, this was important to her. "Fine. I'd rather be hitting things then dealing with Porcelain over there. But you need to keep me in the loop about Quinn's treatment."

Charlie frowns at this before turning to Kurt. "Take her down to the lab and have her properly vetted. I don't care how you get it done but it get it done by the time Sue arrives, or you'll need to find yourself another job."

Santana watched as Charlie stormed back into her office past Kurt and closed the door. Kurt didn't look surprised, if anything he looked irritated. "What crawled up her ass?"

Kurt flicked his eyes over to her, "You _heard her_ let's go. I have to get you properly vetted and I need to make sure that Charlie's mood is better by the time of her event tonight. There will be _press_ there. So get your ass into gear. It's going to be a _long_ night."


	6. Volume 01: Issue 06

Quinn looks up when Santana comes through that night. Tired and what appears to be sore, but with a self-satisfied grin that makes Quinn feel slightly unnerved. Working for Charlie wasn't supposed to be _fun_ and Santana was supposed to come home and agree that aligning with the devil was the worst decision they could make. She wasn't supposed to be— _happy_ about it. She's tempted to ignore it until Santana starts to gently hum as she pulls off her work clothes and puts her shoes in the closet to avoid any sort of tripping hazard. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Santana shrugs. "Nothing. It was just a good day."

"A good day?" Quinn's brow furrows. "What does that mean? Is she closer to—"

"No, nothing like that." Santana frowns as if just then realizing that Quinn should be her sole focus. "I mean, _sort of_? I had to help test something today and I finally got to step away from that stupid ass desk. I think this new thing could really help—"

" _Really_? Or is it just some ploy on her next quest for villainy?" Quinn scoffs.

"Well—" Santana pauses for a moment. This was _classified_ , this whole project was classified and she had just gone through the process of being vetted, much to her general annoyance. The only _good_ thing about it was that Kurt had been a frustrated mess as he tried to get her vetted and run Charlie's insane schedule. "Probably, but I can't talk about it. It's like top-secret."

Quinn frowned, choosing not to start the argument. If there was one thing she understood it was that the Fabray family was known for it's Machiavellianism. She was sure that her father had read The Prince to them as a bedtime story. The whole situation was _amusing_ , in its own way her father had assumed that she'd be an A-list hero, with toys and various endorsement deals. And maybe that was where her career had been headed, until _this_ had happened to her.

Santana reached for Quinn's arm gently, "I know you're worried, and honestly given the mood she's been in these days—I mean she tried to get an entire department fired today, I'm worried too. But I _played_ this right and I made sure that all our deals are transactional. I think she understands that more than simply doing things out of the kindness out of her heart. I know _why_ I'm there and I made sure that I was getting updates on what she's doing to make sure that you can walk again."

Quinn swallowed, "And?"

"She's working on it, that her work on organ printing—uh—using a 3d printer to make organs is important. Because it's the same technology that's going to help in your— _fuck_ —" Santana grimaced. "She wrote it down for me, let me just check my bag." Charlie was in a mood that much was clear and she really hadn't wanted to push her luck by asking her to explain herself. She'd understood some of it, but she hadn't truly understood the technical jargon.

Quinn nods, "I believe you."

"Really?"

"Yes, I believe you. My sister on the other hand—" Quinn shrugged. "But, I'm not going to let that ruin the night and the good news I have for you."

Santana blinked and shifted so she could sit on the bed. They were in desperate need for some good news right about now. "Good news. Just good news? We haven't heard good news without it being followed by bad news in a while."

Quinn nods that much was true and it was like the world was conspiring against them, it had been _mostly_ bad news. "I know things have been rough with all the bills, and the therapists and well _everything_ but I needed to get out of the house more—I've been feeling like a shut in and I can't let this define me. I'm going to walk again but until that time comes—" she trails off unsure of how to finish the sentence. "I got a job."

"You got a job?" Santana asks incredulously. Ever since Quinn had lost the ability of her legs things hadn't been going well on that front. As a field reporter, one who had been about to get a promotion to a prime-time spot, she wouldn't have been able to do her job anymore. She would have been stuck behind a desk and Quinn hadn't wanted that.

"I did, it's at one of these _new_ media places, and you know not traditional media. I'll be writing columns and conducting interviews. Everyone is making sacrifices on my behalf, I mean you've practically given up on being a street hero, and I realized I was being selfish. I am being selfish. I mean the pay isn't that great, compared to my last job but they aren't going to be treating me like I'm some leper because I'm in this chair."

Santana's smile was slow, it was one less thing she was going to have to worry about. Quinn had been a hermit since the incident, she rarely went outside. "That's _amazing_! I mean you never told me you were applying for jobs—"

Quinn nodded, "I didn't want to drag you down if I didn't get it. Rachel took me to the interview."

Santana hesitated for a moment, wondering if Rachel had also pulled a few strings for Quinn. It didn't really matter, after all they were all friends and if she had those connections she would use them too. She forces a smile to her face, she shouldn't be angry that Rachel and others were going above and beyond for Quinn. It was selfish and foolish but she wanted to be the one to provide for Quinn, to help her and she had no idea where the general unease came from. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow, I know it's sudden and all but they want to get me interviewing a few people and I was hoping that you could drop me off on your way to work—we might have to leave earlier but—I mean you don't have to Rachel said she didn't mind waking up to take me." Quinn tried.

"Of course, I don't mind, and I think after today I can afford to be a bit late. I'll just tell them that I was charging up or something," Santana says with a shrug. Of course given where she worked the techies would probably invent something that helped her with her powers. It made sense, they had been excited to meet her and had begun spit balling ways to increase her abilities, it was weird but it felt rather nice. "We can get breakfast together, it'll be nice."

Quinn beams happily. After all their shit, nice sounded pretty wonderful. "Come on, you look like you're starving. I made dinner."

Santana schools her surprise and bends down to kiss Quinn quickly. She'll never forget the phone call that let her know she could have lost everything and isn't sure if she will ever be the same. She has always loved Quinn but that day had reminded her that no amount of powers could guarantee their health and safety would last forever. She doesn't ever want to take Quinn for granted.

Quinn stops Santana from pulling away and looks up to her with eyes gleaming. She hadn't felt sexy or desirable in a long time but right now, all she wanted was Santana. "Or maybe you're famished for something _else._ " She smirks when Santana stares at her dumbly and with a burst confidence grabs her wife's hand and places it against her breast for clarification.

Santana gulps. It had been a _long_ time. She wasn't even sure where to begin with Quinn, or what to do. Their sex life had generally meant broken furniture but she didn't think that was going to happen anytime soon. "Are you sure?"

Quinn nods. She just wants to fix them and wants to give them this moment. She had done her research on this and she was ready. Maybe it wouldn't go perfectly but she needed Santana to know that she was ready to try again.

~O~

For the first time in a while, Quinn felt alive. Based on basically every movie about disability she was supposed to be grateful to be alive, or she was supposed to be the plucky sidekick in someone else's heroic journey. She _hated_ being stuck in a chair and dependent on other people. But, it was hard to describe. Sometimes she _didn't_ feel happy to be alive. Sometimes she just wanted things to go back to normal.

And other times, she just forgot. She forgot that it took her _far_ longer to get ready than it should. She forgot that having to wait in a long line for the women's bathroom, only to have people look at her in pity while some able bodied person stole the handicapped stall ahead of her that she was supposed to be 'inspirational'.

Fuck them. She wasn't there to be someone's inspiration. She was stuck in a chair and she hated every minute of it but also didn't hate it as much as everyone wanted her to. She hated _not walking_ , but she didn't hate the solitude.

It was a weird out of body experience that she felt like she couldn't describe to anyone else. Whatever it was, it made her feel isolated and alone and like some half-person that didn't matter anymore.

She hadn't thought that there was any one thing that could change that feeling so dramatically. But wheeling into her new office building and starting her first day back at a new job in a career she loved? That felt pretty damn great. She takes a shaky breath and glances around noticing a bathroom and wheels towards it. She just needed a moment to collect herself to be the person she once was. It was why she hadn't had Santana walk in with her, she wasn't a child and this wasn't her first day of school.

She slips into the bathroom and heads towards the sink, the sound of moving water generally made her feel better. Santana hated it, bitched that it made her want to go to the bathroom all the time but ever since the accident she had been accommodating and it was tiring in its own way. She just wanted things to go back to normal. The door opens and Quinn tilts her head to smile at the entrant when the smile freezes on her face.

"—I don't _care_ if the government is skittish. They're dragging their feet and I'm growing _bored_ of the stupid excuses that don't seem to be getting us anywhere." Charlie balances her phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she pushes her way into a stall. "Can we just sue them already? Ask a lawyer if I can sue them."

Quinn is a little dumbfounded, that's the only explanation for why she waits around for the twin she despises.

"What? Of course I'm not in the bathroom." Charlie lies, still talking on the phone. "Anyway if the government's not going to do anything to fix this, then we're going to have to force their hands." She's quiet for a moment listening, and the sound of her stream hitting the toilet water fills the room. " _Focus Kurt_ , and you're right it wouldn't look good for my campaign if I'm suing the government. We can find someone else to sue, someone who is affected, I'll have a Super Pac or something pay for the lawyers." Charlie flushes the toilet, "Kurt. Everyone pees, get over yourself. I have no idea why this grosses you out but walking in on me with a woman doesn't and no you can't sue me for sexual harassment. I don't want to sleep with you."

Quinn watches as Charlie leaves the bathroom, and immediately heads for the sink and washes her hands, it's been years since she's been this close to her twin. Nearly ten years, longer probably. Charlie had just stopped coming home in the summer and during Christmas, and now here they were and Charlie couldn't even see her. "You aren't going to get away with it you know." The words are out of her mouth and it's enough to watch her sister's body tense for a moment as her hazel eyes turn to her.

"Quinn. You are not dead I see." Charlie turns to look down at her sister. "Pity." She turns back to look in the mirror and runs a hand through her hair.

The dismissive tone is what bothers her the most. The fact that Charlie didn't even see her when she walked in made her even angrier. Charlie's been like this since they were teens and she was tired of having to cater to Charlie's insecurities. "I know what you're doing."

"Do you? That's surprising." Charlie scoffs. "Given that I haven't seen you in, over a decade. I doubt that you know what I'm doing, and even if you could figure it out, there's nothing you could do to stop me. Though now that you've said something, I'm curious to know what you think my nefarious schemes are."

"You may be able to bully everyone else into catering to your whims, but I know who you really are."

"Right," Charlie responds with a shake of her head, a dismissive look on her face. "Whatever you say Quinn." Charlie turns to leave grabbing her phone and slipping it into her pocket. "This was fun. Let's do it again in twenty years or so."

Quinn grit her teeth tightly. She had _known_ that Charlie wasn't going to keep her promise to Santana. That she was simply using her wife to get back at her. "What I _know_ is that you're just a clichéd supervillain. What I know is that you hate the world because Mom and Dad didn't _love you_ like you thought you deserved. You _hate me_ because I won, our parents didn't get rid of me like they did you and unlike you I got the girl. I _got_ Santana. I got the powers, I got everything you _wanted_ and you hate me for it. So don't you _dare_ act all high and _mighty_ just because I can't walk and I need your help? So yes; I know who you really are. "

The words are enough to get Charlie to turn to Quinn. She had struck a nerve in her twin and she could see the fury in her eyes. "I was a _child_ , of course I wanted powers because I didn't know any better. Our medieval father insisted that the only way to be important was to be strong and powerful and a dimwitted asshole." Charlie takes a deep breath to try to calm herself down. If she looked at it now she would realize that not getting powers had been the best thing that ever happened to her, but back then it just felt like another thing that made Quinn better than she was.

"The coward who ran away—"

"Because you _bullied me_ , you used your powers against me and nearly _killed me_." Charlie hisses. Superheroes were just _bullies_ , and her parents did nothing about it. They had just chalked it up to some youthful indiscretions on Quinn's part.

"It doesn't change the fact that you are still the same pathetic loser you always were." Quinn snaps. She tried not to think about that night and over the last few years she had actually been successful. She refuses to feel bad for a mistake that she made when she was a _child_. It was the moment she realized that even she could fall into villainy. But Charlie had made her so mad that she hadn't been thinking, all that following Santana around and flirting with _her_ girlfriend in front of her. She had snapped and had lashed out at Charlie. "You were weak and just as pathetic back then and you're still pining over my wife like when you were thirteen. I mean for fucks sake move on _Charlotte_."

" _Don't_ call me that." Charlie is practically spitting with rage, whatever feigned disinterest she was trying for had flown out the window. _She_ had called her that and now—she wouldn't let Quinn push her around anymore. "And next time you want to pretend you're all high and mighty, remember this: I _know_ you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It _means_ that I know you. I know what happened to you—the story that not even Santana has heard." Charlie takes a step forward, moving closer towards Quinn, despite the running water beside her, Quinn wasn't stupid enough to try anything and she wasn't scared of her older sister anymore. "It means that I know all the skeletons you keep in your fucking closet, and no matter how much you try and be the perfect wife, you _don't_ deserve her. All I need is four words Quinn and I will destroy your life." Charlie grips Quinn's shirt pulling her out of her chair for a moment. "I fucking _hate you_ _Lucy_. I hate your guts and I think you deserve to be in that stupid chair. You're right about one thing you took _everything_ from me and I fucking love having your wife _beg me_ to help you. Take a good look Quinn, this is what true power looks like. And I know what you're thinking you have the money to buy people off, but I don't need to. All I need to do is tell them to do something and they will. It's having them get down on their knees and _beg_ you for your help. Your wife looked good on her knees Quinn, perfect even." Charlie smirks and lets Quinn go, letting her slump back into her chair. With a sharp inhalation Charlie pulls back staring at Quinn for a moment. "I don't want Santana, all I know is that you don't deserve her. You're the albatross around her neck and she doesn't even know it."

Charlie spins on her heels and storms out of the bathroom and the door swings widely behind her. Only then does Quinn let out a deep breath and pull the tap water out to create a small orb in her palm. Absentmindedly she lets the water morph and spin as she tries to calm herself down. She wouldn't admit this to _anyone_ but for the first time in her life, Quinn was fucking terrified of her sister. There was no way Charlie _knew_ —was there?


	7. Volume 01: Issue 07

Santana stretches, trying to push out the nervous energy that was building up and focus on listening to the instructions that Kurt had been giving her in a rapid fire manner. This was it, the big day, she felt as if everyone in this particular division of Prometheus was depending on her. There had been rumors that if this test didn't go well then it would mean that Charlie would fire the entire department.

Kurt snaps his binder shut. "And don't die. That basically sums it up but if you screw that last one up, then just know that _I_ won't be crying over your grave." He rolls his eyes. "That being said, Sue wants to meet with you so don't be yourself."

"Sue? The three-star general evaluating the project?" Santana's eyes widened. She had heard some political bigwigs were going to be here, but she'd never met an _actual_ general before. She swallowed, wondering if this was how Rachel felt before a huge performance, everyone had said that Sue was just as difficult as Charlie to impress. As far as everyone knew with Charlie in a foul mood, she wasn't impressed with all their hard work, which meant that Sue was going to be the one to save their skins.

" _Yes_. Haven't you been listening? I can't believe we're putting the future of Prometheus in the hands of someone who barely graduated from high school." He shakes his head disgustedly.

Santana bristled, she had graduated just fine. Maybe she hadn't been the best in her class but she'd like to see Kurt attempting to maintain her grade point average while saving the city every other night. And then there were all the late nights with Quinn—Santana smirks inwardly. "Look, Porcelain, I get it. This is super important for your company but they've talked me through the procedure and all I'm doing is putting your little suit to the test. All I know is that all those guys have busted their ass to make sure that the Aegis works. I know some of them even stayed the night working on it for this little test, and I'm not going to let them get fired because something crawled up Charlie's ass. What's with her lately? I think she actually growled at Blaine when he brought her food."

Kurt studied Santana for a moment, part of his job was being Charlie's _confidant_ and he wasn't going to let a word slip. It had been like this ever since he started working for her and the people closest to her _understood._ "Charlie will be back to normal soon enough, unless you screw this up. Then it's _all_ our heads on the chopping block. You want to be a hero so bad, do your goddamn job and _impress_ Sue, and while you're at it impress Charlie. Make the _Aegis_ look like it was a gift from _gods_."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Whatever, just show me where I'm meeting Sue. Do I need to salute?"

"Were you ever in the Army?" Kurt asks bluntly. "If the answer to that is _no_ then you do not need to salute her. You're a _civilian_. Look, _behave_ yourself, don't be a rude bitch like you normally are. Your sarcasm isn't welcome, just do your job." His job was riding on this, he might be able to skirt getting fired but Charlie _would_ remember this failure. She remembered _everything_. If Sue decided to pull funding then there would be people who would be fired. It was just how these things worked. "Follow me, and remember it's better to be seen and not heard."

"I'm not a _child_."

"Debatable considering all the tantrums I've seen you throw. By the way the repairs were finally finished on Charlie's mansion, I'll show you the bill. Whether Charlie insists that you pay for the damage is completely up to my discretion." Kurt smiled at her. "Just think of this as another reason to _not_ fuck up."

"No pressure or anything," Santana mutters.

"Glad that we see eye to eye on this," Kurt snipes at her as they head up the stairs to the observatory. He frowns when he notices Charlie slumped against a pillar just outside the door as she types some last minute notes on her phone. A group of people in military accoutrement were standing watching the display that was going on in front of them. "That's not the outfit I picked out." Kurt informed her bluntly as he managed to grab ahold of her arm.

"So, shoot me."

"Charlie, you go on vacation _tomorrow_ , not today—"

Charlie looks down at herself, her baggy jeans and unbuttoned shirt probably were some major faux pas in Kurt's eye, "But at least I wore a blazer."

"This is a multi- _billion_ -dollar government contract." Kurt's voice came out strangled as his face went a dangerous shade of purple.

"I _wore_ a blazer. Besides you think Steve Jobs ever wore anything more than those ugly turtlenecks of his and those god awful _jeans_. I'm _wearing_ a blazer. So if you're going to have an aneurysm do it _away from_ this test run." Charlie snaps at him. She watched in boredom as the pilot for the Aegis armor pulled along a 747 with relative ease. It was _impressive_ , this particular version weighed nearly four hundred and fifty tons. Being able to _lift_ things was not why she had designed the suit. If this was any other _general_ , this alone would be enough to keep the grant, but it was Sue.

"You think parlor tricks are enough to keep me from seeing straight through this bullshit?" Sue scoffs with a shake of her head. "Were you too busy playing video games to actually _try_ and not make complete garbage?"

Charlie rolls her eyes and goes back to her phone. "I'm showing you what it can do."

"You're showing me that this suit can move an airplane. Great job. But that's not what I was paying you to do."

"Actually it's what your predecessor ordered, he wasn't particularly imaginative but this is what you _wanted_ the Aegis to do. The fact that it's ballistic proof, even for so called armor piercing rounds, and it's heat resistant and water resistant are just add-ons. As far as I'm concerned we've already passed this test." Charlie could practically feel Kurt having a conniption beside her. He was forgetting his place, he was her assistant not her boss.

"Perhaps, but we could certainly get cheaper exoskeletons than this, from one of your competitors maybe not as strong and certainly not with the features, but certainly not on something that will blow half the military budget." Sue threatened, she _knew_ Charlie. She'd been keeping her eye on both Brittany and Charlie since they graduated from MIT. The fact that they had both decided to work in the private sector instead of for her was one of her few losses. What she did know was that _this_ was beneath Charlie especially given how many times the Aegis had been delayed.

Charlie pushed herself off the wall, "If you'd _wait_ more than two seconds you'd see the live demonstration of just how far we are able to take Aegis. Sue, I'd like you to meet Santana Lopez codename Snixx. I'm sure you have a file on her somewhere."

" _Charlie_ —"

"Santana. Everyone in this room can keep a secret and if you don't think the government is watching you, then you're an idiot."

Sue flicked her eyes toward Santana, they _did_ have a file on every active super in the country, and she knew exactly who Santana was. People who were powerful caught her attention, and Santana just like Charlie had caught her attention. "I wasn't aware that your sister-in-law worked for you."

Charlie tilted her head to Sue for a moment, before moving toward the railing, "Sam, we're moving on to the next part of the demonstration, and since I doubt the board will be pleased if we destroy a Boeing 747 and I have no intention of paying for one, take the thing outside and have our people return it."

 _'_ _Will do, Boss.'_ Sam pulled the 747 out of the hanger.

" _Joy_. Yet another choreographed display that doesn't actually show us _anything_ such as ease of use. We'll simply have to _trust_ that this choreography is impressive enough to warrant further funding." Sue smirked when she noticed Charlie's attention focused completely on her for a moment. She had struck a nerve. She didn't actually doubt that this prototype was worth every penny and it would have been done sooner if Charlie was actually the one in the lab running the project.

"Would _you_ like to get inside the suit then and try it out for yourself?" Charlie asks raising a brow. "It's not _easy_ and will require some basic training but even an old dog like you can learn new tricks right?"

" _I_ am far too valuable to lose in some epic explosion because you mixed up your intake valves." Sue dismisses.

Charlie sighs and looks at Kurt for a moment, she _knew_ what Sue wanted to see. "Kurt why don't you—"

"No, I'm your _assistant_. Ask me to get your dry cleaning, tell me to get you a cup of coffee, fine. I'll bitch about it but at least that's in my job description." Kurt responded without looking up. He _liked_ his face and he had no doubt that Santana would _kill him_ if given the chance.

"You know back when you were at the academy you were always so _eager_ to try out your new toys. Are you worried that it simply isn't up to your standards?" Sue asked, digging the screws in tighter. Every _genius_ that she knew had an ego on them. Charlie was no exception, but she had noticed that the thrill-seeking behavior had stopped once she started Prometheus.

Charlie scowls. "You really think she's going to punch me as hard as she can when she's only here so that I'll make something to fix her broken wife?"

"She's not _broken_ —" Santana grumbles, taking offense. She was here for Quinn but hearing Charlie talk about her like she's some burden sets her on edge. "Look, I really have no problem punching _you_ in the face—"

But Sue scratches her chin thoughtfully, "That's a good point. So what you're saying is that this demonstration is nothing more than a waste of all of our time." She stands making a large display of her disapproval. Charlie was a sucker for disapproval and she was sure Charlie wouldn't disappoint.

Charlie scowled and looked at Santana, she _loathed_ having Sue around. Next time she was going to insist that Kurt get someone else. Sue got under her skin in a way that few people could. She had built her company up on the foundation of Aegis. It was _her_ brainchild and even though it wasn't where she wanted it, she was proud of her work. She wasn't going to allow Sue to simply insult the greatest piece of technology that the world had ever seen. "Come at me with the intent to kill me, if you happen to win this little demonstration, I'll fix Quinn by the year's end, if I win Santana it'll be another _five_ years at least, and she'll wait for clinical trials." Charlie informed Santana pulling off her blazer.

" _Ma'am_ I'm going to have to insist that you—"

"Read your emails Kurt," Charlie snapped at him turning to Santana. "Is that deal amendable to you?"

" _Fuck_. Yes." Santana grinned at Charlie. She had minded her manners because of _just_ how big of a deal this was to a lot of people, but they weren't as important as Quinn. So if she had to break Charlie's toy and put Charlie in traction for a couple of weeks to get her to work on finding a way to help Quinn. Well this was clearly going to be the best day ever. She had seen what the Aegis could do and Sue was right it wouldn't hold up to her going full force against the thing.

Charlie turned to Sue, "Will that work for you?"

Sue studies Charlie for a moment and looks at Santana who seemed ready to go. "It will have to do."

Santana turned to look at Charlie who was busy playing with the ring around her finger, it was the first time that she had noticed the silver band. "Look, I'm not going to put you in the hospital or anything and I know the project members have put in extra hours to make this thing work. So when I win, don't be a sore loser and fire the entire department."

Charlie didn't reply as Sam jogged back inside the building. "Sam take of the suit."

"Uh—ma'am?" Sam asked but he immediately set about doing it. Everyone knew she was in a bad mood and questioning orders was probably not good for his general employment.

"Don't worry about it Sam," Santana informed him. He had done what he was supposed to do. Sam nods as the suit retracts away from his skin. Santana turns to look at Charlie before allowing the heat that she had kept stored up to escape from her body as it lit up in a dark black flame. She nodded at Charlie before stepping onto the railing and jumping down, making sure to a nice flip with a twist till she landed neatly on her feet.

Sam frowned as he looked at her, "What's going on?" He mumbled.

"Charlie's going to be piloting, Sue wants to see _ease_ of use or something," Santana informs him working on making sure she doesn't accidentally burn him as she takes a step back.

" _Fuck_ does this mean I'm out of a job?" Sam questioned as he pulled off the chest piece, biting his lip. This had been his easiest job ever, the Aegis basically piloted itself.

"I don't know," Santana informs him. "But when I win I'll see what I can do," she promised him patting him on the back as Charlie finally appeared at the entrance.

"Ma'am. Do you need me to run you through a quick—"

"I created the Aegis, and I assure you I don't need your input," Charlie informs him curtly as he hands her the Aegis. It was the culmination of nearly seven years work and various departments working on _different_ things, there had been so many moving parts. "The _ethos_ of my company has always been bringing man closer to the gods." Charlie said to no one in particular. "But while I applaud the story of Prometheus stealing fire from Zeus and giving it to the poor _wretched_ humans, Zeus wasn't _wrong_. Humanity wasn't ready. I doubt humanity is ready for this, but at this point I no longer care. Aegis Protocol: Delta Whiskey Zulu One Seven Two Zero Zero Nine— Administrative Access."

Santana took a step back, she had seen Sam put on the armor a _million_ times by now, never had it moved that quickly as it bonded itself to Charlie's skin, it even began to morph around her face and hair. The metal appeared to move like liquid and she swore inwardly, Kurt looked _speechless_ which meant that he hadn't been privy to this either. Which wasn't good, it was like fighting a new supervillain on the street when she had no idea _what_ he did. It was a dangerous situation to be in and she needed to put some distance between the two of them. She is about to hop back when Charlie turns to her and as her foot touches down on the ground she feels a presence beside her. A metal hand suddenly grabbed her face and pushed her back forcefully until she was falling, everything appeared to be happening in slow motion as her head slammed into the concrete, with a force that would _kill_ most people as the action caused cracks in the concrete. She was sure that if she hadn't been in her superhuman _'_ powered up' form which gave her superhuman physical strength and invulnerability, she would be dead right now her brains splattered all over the ground. It stuns her for a moment, she's not a hundred percent sure if Charlie had intended to kill her but she doesn't have time to give it much thought as a bright blue light had suddenly appeared in front of her face. As far as she knew the Aegis didn't have weapons either but clearly she had been wrong about that assessment as well.

It was only years of practice that allowed her to move quickly enough to dodge the blast as she scrambled to the side trying to get to her feet, she stumbles and crashes against the ground tripping on her own two feet. She hasn't been this ungraceful since she got rid of the damn cape. She glances back at Charlie who is merely approaching her like she wasn't a threat. She was more powerful in _direct_ sunlight but the hanger, while it had windows was not offering her the sunlight she needed. She rolls onto her back and winces at the taste of iron in her mouth, she'd never _bled_ in this form before. It was a _first_ , but she wasn't going to let Charlie steam roll her like this. She grimaces and holds a hand up firing off one of her concussive solar blasts at the ceiling rolling out of the way as parts of the ceiling came crashing down on top of Charlie. She didn't expect to distract Charlie for long, but she needed a recharge or she was probably going to die. "Alright let's take this stupid fight outside," she hisses propelling herself out of the hanger. She didn't care if Sue could no longer watch this _death match_. She just needed to get out into the sun or she would run out of juice. She grimaces as she skids across the concrete pushing past the doors and into the sun.

Sue turned to Kurt a smile on her face as she moved to get a better viewing of the fight. She understood Santana's strategy but given how nonplussed Charlie looked—at least she assumed that was going through Charlie's head as she headed outside of the hanger. "Twelve. We'll take twelve. How long until they're fully operational—"

"You'll get six. Only one with administrative access, and that code and the controls for that will be given to the president. It will be a part of the football. The six will have non-lethal weapons."

"Excuse me?" Sue demands.

Kurt swallows and holds up his tablet. "I'm merely reading the instructions that Charlie gave me. Prometheus isn't in the business of making weapons of mass destruction to use to torment humanity. She's not going to allow it and if you want to argue about it take it up with her."

"Don't think I won't. She can't dictate—" Sue's words were trailed off as Charlie flew through the anger at a speed that caused the metal to warp around her when she crashed into it. She leans forward, some of the metal had peeled off around her face and it almost looked tendril like as it began to reform around her face.

"Not a super villain my _ass_ ," Santana swore moving to end the fight. She needed to put Charlie down as quickly as possible. As it was she was sure that Charlie had fractured her damn arm, before she had realized that her concussive solar blasts were effective on the Aegis. She raises her arm, aiming for Charlie's head as Charlie raises her own hand.

Kurt winces as both of them fire off their respective abilities at the same time. This time Charlie landing a clean hit on Santana who had probably assumed that she'd be able to withstand it while she was fully charged. But he's more concerned as Charlie's head slams against the metal with force, it was the greatest mind on the planet and who knew what a _concussion_ would do to it.

"Hmm, seems as if they're both out for the count." Sue frowns slightly watching as Santana's body reverted to normal and the Aegis began to slowly retract, from Charlie's skin. "I'll talk with her tomorrow—"

"She's off on vacation tomorrow, she doesn't take any calls or even think about business during this time," Kurt informed Sue bluntly. He grimaces at her cold stare and truthfully his main concern is getting their medical team to take a look at Charlie. "If you wish to make an appointment, then I can make sure she calls you when she gets back. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and make sure my boss is still breathing and get our medical staff here to check her over."

Sam frowned at Kurt, "And Santana."

"Right and Santana," Kurt noted. He had no idea what this meant for Prometheus but at least Santana had _tied_ with Charlie if only for a moment. All it meant was that the Aegis wasn't ready. He had no idea what Charlie would do about that information but hopefully she'd forget about firing her entire department.

" _Ow_. _Fuck_." Santana groaned as her eyes flickered open. "What the hell _hit me_?" She forces herself up and immediately her hand shoots out to steady herself as her vision swims. She inhales slowly trying to get her breathing back to normal and notices Kurt fussing over Charlie. "Fuck did I win?"

"No, but you didn't _lose_ either," Sam said as he moved to help her. "I'd stay down until our medical staff arrives. You probably have a concussion, they'll probably want to do a full work up on you."

Santana groaned as the nausea hit her like a wave crashing against the shoreline, "Quinn—"

Sam hops out of the way as Santana begins to hurl emptying the contents of her stomach onto the ground. He grimaces and reaches to at least help her move her hair out of the way and pats her back gently. "Take it up with her when she gets back. Hopefully she'll be in a better mood then."

Santana nodded, as another wave of nausea hit. At least now she had an argument to make to Charlie about helping Quinn.

~O~

Santana slunk home, more grateful than she would admit that Sam had at least helped her pick herself up and get almost home.

"Do you want me to walk you to the door?" Sam asks, glancing over her injuries nervously. Despite her invulnerability she still had a massive cut over her eye that was a gross half-scab half-bleeding mess. Her nose had thankfully been reset before it started to heal incorrectly, so at least there was _that_.

"No." Santana winced, her ribs sore and aching as she shifts in her seat to grab her purse. "I can make it. Thanks."

"You did good today." Sam encourages.

Santana snorts and then curses herself for the action. She wasn't as invulnerable as she had once believed. "I'm not sure what world getting my ass kicked qualifies as _'good'_. But what the hell are they going to do, fire me?" She's about to shake her head when she remembers that it's a _terrible_ idea. The vertigo hadn't exactly disappeared.

"I've _never_ seen it do some of that stuff." Sam admits. He had been a little worried for Santana and he was glad she was okay.

"Right, tell Kurt that I'm taking the day—possibly the week off," Santana grunts as she opens the door and steps out, she needed to spend the next while out in the sun letting her body heal. She places her hand on Sam's car to steady herself but she straightens herself out. She didn't want Quinn to freak out, she'd probably freak out and attempt to do something stupid, but she had given just as good as she received. Charlie looked like _shit_. She smiles smugly, that might at least make Quinn relatively happy.

"Right," Sam said, not moving he was going to make sure that she got inside at least before he drove away. She may be a superhero, but she had just received a severe beating.

Santana patted his car before slowly making her way up the ramp to their place and walking towards the door. She immediately fished for her keys in her purse, finding them after a moment. She turns to wave at Sam before opening the door and stepping inside. She closes the door quietly, hoping that she could maybe wash up before Quinn saw her.

"—I don't _care_ Rachel. She deserves to know." Quinn's voice insists from somewhere deeper inside. "My _sister_ knows and god knows what she plans to do with that information. I don't even know how she found out—"

"Quinn, I _know_ your conscience is getting the better of you. But do you _remember_ what happened when I told—"

"Finn?" Quinn finishes for her. "Yeah. _That_ is pretty hard to forget."

Santana furrows her brow and drops her purse silently at her feet. If she felt bad about eavesdropping before, she sure as hell didn't feel bad now. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Rachel is silent for a beat and Santana almost wonders if Rachel and Quinn have realized she's there. "Of course. I'm sorry. That doesn't change the fact that you should _not_ tell her. Surely your sister wouldn't reveal _that_. Maybe she doesn't even really know?"

Quinn lets out a harsh laugh, Rachel had never met her sister. She had seen Charlie on the news and she had looked reasonable. "She _knows_. I know my sister and that look on her face—she knows. I just don't understand why she hasn't told Santana yet. I mean given how she used to try and _impress_ Santana and win her from me—she's messing with me. It's a _power play_ it has to be."

"Quinn, no good can come of it and maybe that's your twin's master plan. Causing a schism in your relationship with Santana." Rachel swallows, "You two are finally back on the same page—well you're getting there. There is no coming back from this."

"What _I_ know is that Santana isn't going to go into a blind rage and break your back like Finn did to me. I _know_ that Santana won't then hold a press conference and declare himself the hero that our city deserves." Quinn scoffs.

"I should have let you known that I had told Finn, but our relationship was already on the outs when it happened. I had no idea—"

"It doesn't matter. He _broke me_ , he broke my back and left me to die and I just—" Quinn inhales. "I need you to go Rachel—I need you to go so I can figure out what to do about Santana. I'm going to tell her tonight and I don't think you should be around for that." Quinn said finally.

"If—if that's what you want. I'll go but I still don't think that this is a good idea, who knows what Santana would do—"

"She's not _Finn_." Quinn spits immediately coming to Santana's defense as she wheels herself towards the front door. She stops short when she sees Santana in the doorway, her jaw dropping in the horrified realization that her wife had heard everything.

But Rachel is too focused on getting her point across to notice what had stopped Quinn in her tracks. "I just can't see how _one small mistake_ should change anything. We slept together Quinn, but it was a mistake! Why can't we just get on with our lives? It—" She freezes when a third voice clears her throat and whips around to meet Santana's fury filled eyes. "Oh."

"Santana—"

Santana turns to Quinn for a moment, her fury dissipating a bit as she looks at her wife. She opens her mouth to say something but no words come tumbling out, so instead she turns around on her heel sharply, deciding to ignore the vertigo as she stumbles out of the house. She just needed to get away.

"Santana _wait_ —" Quinn calls trying to wheel after her wife, wishing her legs would work but as she attempts to go to her, to follow her wife, her wheel hits the doorframe stopping her. She looks up to call to Santana only to realize that she was gone.


	8. Volume 02: Issue 01

"This. This is the best bacon I've ever had," Charlie mumbled her mouth filled to the brim with bacon. She grinned as another plate was placed in front of her wincing at the pain in her lip. She didn't eat like this often, a full breakfast like this, but whenever she made the trip to Kentucky she made sure to sample _everything_. In huge quantities, it wasn't known as the BBQ Capital of the World for nothing.

"You say that every year you come down here. If I didn't know better I'd say you _only_ came for the food," a gruff voice at the head of the table caused Charlie to look up a sheepish smile on her face.

"Guilty as charged," Charlie responds after swallowing.

"Leave her alone, Ray." Ruth chided as she brought over another plate of bacon to rest on the table. "Charlie is _famous_." She turned to Charlie and wasn't about to let her upper-hand go to waste, "But being famous is no excuse."

"No excuse for what?" Charlie scoffs, her mouth full of half-chewed bacon.

"We _see_ you on the news, all that bad press and those dumb lugs that call themselves heroes suggesting that you're evil. _You_ need to be more careful."

"Or what?" Charlie challenges playfully, squeezing the back of Ruth's hand softly to take any bite out of her words. Ruth and Raymond Puckerman were like the parents she wished she could have had—only _better_. They were a simple, easy-going couple that accepted her genius as a useful skill that could help out around the farm. They'd ask her pointed questions about her newest products or whatever had decided to catch her interest, and _listen_ intently even though she knew they probably had no idea what any of it meant.

In short, they cared about her work because _she_ cared about it. And this time of year, there was no place she would rather be

"Or no more bacon for you." Ruth retorts quickly.

"You need to get yourself a gun. That's what you need. They attack you and you end them, it'll be the last time they come after you. Last time I checked we had a first amendment right to say what we wanted, damn PC police trying to stop our voices from being heard. It's why I tell you that the second amendment is so important. You need to be able to protect the first. I tell you, first they'll try and take our guns and then they'll have no one to stop them when they try to take away our other freedoms. Checks and balances."

Ruth rolls her eyes, "You're not going to change her mind anytime soon, so you might as well stop trying to indoctrinate her." She points out. "But you need to be careful, how many times are they going to drag you in front of a judge and tell the world that you're _evil_?"

"Well, that's why I have an army of lawyers on retainer for just that," Charlie responds cheerfully. She knew better than to get into an argument with Ray over politics, he was set in his ways and there was very little point in arguing with him about it.

Ray frowned a bit and points his fork at her. "Is it true what they're saying about the weather changing all the time?"

"Yes. Climate change is real. Yes, I'm working on something to stop it." Charlie responds with a wave of her hand. "But you don't need to worry about your farm Ray, I'll make sure it's safe no matter what. How are the seeds I designed for you?"

"Great." Ray answers just a little too quickly for her to believe them. She cocks an eyebrow at him skeptically. Ray is an old cowboy type and he never throws around compliments so lightly. Something's up and she knows by the soft blush on his cheeks that he would deny to his grave that it is something big.

Ruth sighs, "You might as well tell her."

"Tell me what?" Charlie presses.

"Nothing." Ray shoots Ruth a pointed look. "You have plenty to worry about with your big company and all. We can figure it out—"

"Figure what out?" Charlie asks slowly. She loathed these moments, she was the smartest person in the room but if she had no idea what was going on than her IQ was merely a number on a page.

Ray sighed, "You ain't just on the news, you know. I've seen your exploits on the Enquirer. When are you going to settle down? You need to bring a girl here to the farm, let me put her through the paces. None of those girls you've been seeing would last a moment on the farm."

Charlie hesitates for a moment and glances at Ruth before blushing as she stared down at her plate. The Puckerman's had taken her in, and she knew she shouldn't be embarrassed by her actions. She was a human, she required social interaction and she longed for that closeness. "No one—they aren't _her_. It's fun, it's something to not make me feel lonely but they aren't—her. She generally had no idea what I was talking about but she'd try to understand, and I can see it—they're eyes just glaze over and I know what they want. They want my money. They want to be the queen of my empire and I just—Prometheus is hers. I don't see anyone else as worthy of inheriting what was supposed to be hers."

"We know sweetheart." Ruth assures her. They had come a long way since the funeral where Charlie had avoided them and then run back to her mansion as soon as she could. But that had been years ago. "But, she would want you to be happy, she'd want you to find someone and be happy and settle down and have a big family. That's what she would have wanted."

Charlie smiles a bit, "I know, when I find the right woman then I'll introduce her to you. Until then—" Charlie turns her attention back to Ray who was busy sipping on his coffee. "What do I need to know?"

"That you can be a nosy little brat." Ray retorts without thinking.

Charlie laughs and shakes her head. He's deflecting and trying to avoid the question which means it's serious. "Is this about money?"

"Of _course_ it's not about money." Ray answers right away. He'd never ask Charlie for a handout. In fact he had given one of his sons a whooping for going to Charlie for a handout. He hadn't raised any of his children like that. He had made that his son had given the money back.

"It's sort of about money," Ruth slips in looking at her husband.

" _Ruth_." Ray barks at his wife looking distraught.

Charlie sighs, "Ray, you know very well that I'm going to find out eventually. So you might as well just tell me so we can figure out a solution together. I'm guessing it has to do about the seeds?" Charlie started, she could probably figure it out if she tried. As far as she was concerned it was her own special blend of genetically modified seeds.

Ray frowned when he noticed her mind working, she would find out and she'd deal with it like she normally did. "You've got far too much to worry about, you don't need to concern yourself with this it's nothing important, just some people who are jealous that we're doing well. And don't you go digging into it, you'll be far too busy helping out on the farm to go poking about."

"Raymond she's part of the family," Ruth reminded him gently. He was far too stubborn for his own good.

But Charlie wasn't going to give him another chance to talk his way out with general crankiness and stubbornness. She pulls out her tablet and does some quick searching. "All the farms surrounding you use Monsanto seed. It's them?"

"It's _nothing_." Ray repeats.

"They are threatening the farm." Ruth explains bluntly, tired of listening to Ray put up his bluster. "Saying that we stole their seed. Something about intellectual property—"

Charlie puts down her utensils, Monsanto wished that they owned her intellectual property. They probably thought that Ray and Ruth were so inconsequential that no one would notice. Redneck farmers without a college education, they were an _easy_ target. "Did you tell them where you got the seed?" Her name should have been enough to strike fear into their greedy snake-skin boots.

Ray looked away and Ruth sighed, she'd deal with his injured pride later. "Noah did at the meeting, they didn't believe us. Said something about Prometheus not being in the agricultural business." They couldn't afford a fancy lawyer. And the one that they had couldn't seem to get headway against Monsanto's team of lawyers. It had only been a few weeks ago that they had received an injunction to destroy this year's entire yield pending analysis of the seeds. Even if they _did_ go to court over that, it would be years before they'd be able to plant again. Ray hadn't slept in weeks and they _needed_ Charlie's help.

Charlie picked up the napkin and dabbed her lips, heads would roll for this. Ray would never have asked for her help, she'd just arrive one day to find that the farm would be gone. He was a proud man like that and she respected him, she thought he was a stubborn fool most of the time but she _respected_ his convictions. Something of this magnitude should have been on her desk weeks ago. Something of this magnitude should have had her lawyers swarming over the situation like ants all over spilt ice cream. "Don't worry about it."

Ray frown grew deeper, "Charlie—"

"Ray, I don't like _bullies_. So let _my people_ help your lawyer alright? I'm sure that we can get this cleared up soon. Besides they're claiming that something that I created for you is their property. I have an entire department of lawyers dedicated to protecting my patents, and trust me I patent _everything_. So this isn't just your problem it's mine as well."

"We'll pay you back—"Ray begins.

Charlie pushes her plate forward, "Of course you will. In bacon and ribs. In fact just keep the food coming. And pie. Don't forget the pie. "

Ruth shakes her head as Ray shoots Charlie an exasperated look, he hadn't know what to make of the genius at first. He hadn't been sure that Charlie was the right fit for their daughter. Charlie had been awkward and nervous and had struggled to make an impression on her husband, until he had found out that she was a mechanic of _sorts_ and had asked her to take a look at a tractor that he had planned to sell for spare parts. He hadn't expected Charlie to make the thing run like a new one in a night, it was more fuel efficient and stronger than it had ever been and was still working to this day.

"You'll get the pie after we're done working, we've got a long list of things that need to be worked on." Ray responded as he finished his coffee. "Come on." He shook his head when Charlie sighed and immediately grabbed a few more slices of bacon for the road.

~O~

Charlie hefted the bag full of vacuum sealed meat over her shoulder and pinched her phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she fiddled with the code for her front door. "I told you I would take care of it, now can we talk about your wedding anniversary. I have this beautiful apartment in Athens Greece, beautiful view—"

 _'_ _Can I bring my gun?'_ Ray grunts, clearly doing some type of work despite the fact Charlie knew he was a good two weeks ahead of schedule.

Charlie pauses for a moment. "No Ray, you can't bring your gun. I know this may be hard to understand but you don't need a gun for _everything_. It's Greece, it's _Athens_ , just be smart about it like you would everywhere else and you won't need your gun." Charlie sighs for a moment. "What about a cruise instead—"

' _Ruth gets seasick_. _Beside who will look after the farm?_ '

"Noah has two hands and can look after the farm for a week. Probably—I mean he might not burn it down. If you want I'll come down and do it—"

 _'_ _No. You'll probably make it all fancy like and more efficient. Maybe I should take her someplace fancy—maybe up to New York for a weekend? But she doesn't like all the people—'_

Ray also wasn't a fan of too many people, it was a feeling that she understood perfectly well. "I have a place up here, that's remote. It's on a lake. You can do some fishing, it's _romantic_.'

 _'_ _I don't need your help romancing my wife.'_ Ray grumbled at her. ' _But—do you got one of those helicopters? I see you on tv getting onto them all the time.'_

"Don't you hate heights?" Charlie asked raising a brow in amusement, she could hear the distress in his voice and she couldn't really help herself. Ray had worked her hard on the damn farm and her muscles still ached. But it was the first time in a long time that she had gone to bed and slept through the night with ease every single night she had been in Kentucky.

' _Sometime a man's got to do what he's got to do. She always thought it'd be fun but, you know me.'_

"I do." Charlie responded shaking her head and smiling. "I own two helicopters. I was going to learn how to fly one but I simply don't have the time." The ones he saw were owned by Prometheus, she certainly wasn't going to waste her own money when the company was willing to do it for her. Charlie sighs as she finally gets the door to her apartment open. "There are some rather scenic routes that you can take. I remember that we took one once—" She stops short, horrified. "I'm going to have to call you back, Ray."

He hangs up without so much as a goodbye, which she'd remember to tease him about later if she weren't so distracted.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Charlie asks, her lip curling at the sight of Santana sprawled on her couch watching _the Notebook_ a half-eaten tub of ice cream melting on the coffee table. "Is this your thing now? I thought we talked about you breaking and entering! How the fuck did you get in?"

It's enough to jolt Santana out of her stupor as she looks at Charlie for a moment, "Send me the cleaning bill. Or better yet, consider it my gift to humanity and go hire some poor down-on-their-luck schmuck." She scoops a spoonful of ice cream and snorts to herself. "Just think of it as stimulating the economy."

"I'd rather not. The last person I gave charity to ended up messing up my fucking apartment and is currently getting _ice cream_ on my floors." Charlie sneers, her island was covered in _crumbs_ and even from where she was standing she could see that it was _sticky_. "Answer the question. How. The. Fuck. Did. You. Get. In?" The door hadn't been destroyed so clearly Santana had gotten in another way, which didn't bode well for her advanced security system which she had designed herself.

Santana rolled her eyes as she sat up. "Brittany gave me the key and the access codes. Fuck I didn't know you were such a sap. What's with all these fucking sappy chick flicks?"

Charlie grits her teeth. They weren't _hers_. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to get rid of them yet. "None of your business. What are you doing here?"

"None of _your_ business." Santana retorts.

Charlie stares at her, "This is my apartment! You _broke in_. You made a mess and you look and smell like you haven't showered in _days_. So _yes_ it's my fucking business." Charlie pauses as she feels a sudden influx of heat in the room, but she refuses to be cowed by Santana.

"You're a genius and you want to tell me that you didn't _know_?" Santana laughs humorlessly. "You _knew_. You fucking knew and you didn't say _shit_? You probably laughed with Kurt behind my back, right? Just like you used to do when we were kids. Stupid Santana, too dumb to see what's right in front of her."

"Oh. This is about Quinn." Charlie responds flatly and moves to the fridge hoping that it's still clean so she can store the food she brought back from Kentucky. Ruth had made _pie_ and she wasn't going to let it be ruined. "For the record, I never laughed at you and I never thought you were stupid. I realize that my intelligence is the one that's far outside the norm. It's not even within two standard deviations of the norm. I was the strange one, not _you_."

"Yeah, but your wife didn't fuck your friend, did she?" Santana curls her hands into tight fists. "She didn't _let_ you humiliate yourself and destroy your career because of her stupid mistake. She didn't _hide_ the fact that her back got broken by someone we _knew._ I fucking broke laws for her—"

"Which you still continue to do by the way and though I loathe to absolve Quinn of anything, that's on you. Breaking and entering is still a crime you know. Also calm down. If you melt my furniture or start a fire in this house, I will end you," Charlie snaps at Santana. She had too many important things in this apartment, there were too many memories and if Santana ruined it, she really would murder her.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me? I mean _damn it_ Charlie, weren't we friends once? Do you really hate me that much that you just let me—you let her—?"

Charlie placed Ruth's prize winning pie in the fridge before arranging the Tupperware containers that were filled with food. "Before you decided to attack my office, it had been more than ten years since we talked. I didn't show up to your wedding, I certainly didn't show up to any important event in our life. You also think I'm a supervillain, and I doubt you would have believed a word I said. Also, it's none of my business. Besides for someone who used to be a former private investigator, I don't see how you didn't see it. _Surely_ there were signs. These sorts of things don't happen in a vacuum."

Santana opened her mouth and then closed it, looking away. She had gone over every interaction, every single time Quinn had said she was spending some quality time with Rachel and she had to ask herself how she had missed it. "I trusted her."

"Yes well, that's your mistake not mine. Now that's been cleared up, I'm going to give you a thousand dollars to go away. Go spend the night in a decent hotel room with room service that will clean up after you. I'm going to need to have this place disinfected." She didn't really want to hire someone to clean up after her.

Santana flopped back on the couch, she didn't _want_ to spend the nights in a hotel. Quinn would find her, it was why she hadn't gone home to see her parents, plus her mother would have had a few choice words about how she was right. Not to mention it was _pathetic_ —she pauses and looks at the melted ice cream on the coffee table and she closes her eyes. She was _being_ pathetic. But who did she have to turn to? Rachel had betrayed her and she had no idea who she could truly trust anymore since she started working at Prometheus. "It'll piss off Quinn if you let me stay here."

"I don't make any life decision based on whether it will _piss_ off my sister. I come _home_ to relax and occasionally to have sex. I assume that Brittany thought she was helping me or you looked far too pathetic and she decided that I needed to take care of you to remind me to be a good person. Though it's more likely she was naked when she opened the door saw you and handed you my keys because she didn't want to deal with it." There was a flush on Santana's cheeks and Charlie rolled her eyes. Brittany had probably forgotten all about Santana being here, which was why she was _still_ here. "Either way it simply boils down to the fact that I don't _care_ that my sister cheated on you. Nor do I have the inclination to clean up after you, I have better things to do. You'll probably end up crawling back to her anyway because Quinn managed to find the correct words to make you think that she's changed."

Santana swallowed, she had actually expected Charlie to say no. She probably should have made some attempt to pull herself out of her depression and clean up after herself. "I don't have anyone to turn to and I just—look I'm sorry about your apartment, I'll start cleaning it up. Can I just stay until I find a place?"

Charlie sighed this was a problem that wasn't simply going to go away, ""I'll have Kurt—"

"No—I just—look I just need a few days and I swear I'll be out of here. I need to figure out what to do next and well you _are_ the smartest person in the world," Santana tried, it was stupid appealing to Charlie's ego in such an obvious way.

"Stating a fact isn't flattery. It's simply a fact," Charlie responded. She counts to ten in her mind slowly before opening her eyes, "I understand Kurt can be _difficult_ and judgmental, he is paid far too much for an assistant. So you can stay for the week, but you don't touch my food. You sleep on the couch, you _shower_ , and more importantly you clean up after yourself which means disinfecting—everything."

"I can do that." Santana promises. It's at least a start. A week will give her time to make a plan.

"Excellent," Charlie said briskly. It was a problem that she had solved, now there was one more pressing matter that she needed to deal with. "Now that I no longer have to search for treatment options for Quinn, you're welcome to stay on with Prometheus, apparently you have been invaluable to the underlings and they like having you around or you can go back to being a private investigator if you wish."

Santana hesitated, she hadn't really _thought_ about that. She hadn't put much thought in her employment just like she hadn't truly put any thought in walking out on her wife and crushing her phone so Quinn couldn't reach her. Plus she hadn't thought of what Charlie's reaction would be. "I—I need to think about it." Did she care if Quinn could walk again? She had already sacrificed so much for her, she would could never be a hero that was accepted by the community again. Everyone thought she had _sold_ out, had joined forces for the payday that working for Charlie provided. It was something that she had simply ignored, Quinn—her wife was more important, but that was when she thought Quinn had been faithful to her. The situation was messed up and she didn't even know where to begin.

Charlie sighs. She should have known that "Alright. You have thirty minutes while I go into my room and listen to the ninety messages Kurt left on my voicemail while I was gone. When I come back this—" Charlie gestured around her living room and kitchen, "—had better not be a thing." She was also going to have to deal with Brittany, she didn't care when Brittany decided to take in strays, she had taken this particularly fat cat when they had been roommates back in the academy, she just loathed when Brittany ended up dumping the stray on her.

Santana nods absentmindedly and picks up the tub of ice cream. "Where am I going to sleep though, you don't have a guest room."

Charlie frowns and looks towards her bedroom and pinches the bridge of her nose, she'd have to have people come in here and clean _everything_. She'd have to call Kurt and deal with his bitchiness for not answering any of his calls. "Here's a thought, perhaps the reason I don't have a guest room is because I don't want any guests. If you insist on living here, for whatever reason, you can stay on the couch or the floor. It's not my job to make you comfortable here, especially given the fact that you seem to have this thing with destroying my things."

"Right," Santana mumbles, she needed to get over this _hope_ and belief that Charlie was the person she remembered. Quinn had been wrong, Charlie didn't seem to harbor any romantic inclinations towards her, sure she made crass comments and her humor had become darker but she wasn't the same person as before. Though some of it may have to do with her things getting destroyed as Charlie kept pointing out, and she probably _should_ have cleaned up. She also probably shouldn't have gone snooping, but she had only really been looking for a guest room to crash in, but now that she had seen the wedding invitations on the office desk she couldn't really _help_ herself, her inner private investigator _needed_ to know. "Charlie?"

"What?" Charlie responded not tearing her eyes away from her phone as she made a mental note to call Ray once she was done and had a moment. She would probably need to go to the office to start getting some work done.

Santana hesitated for a moment, it was an invasion of privacy but the worst thing that Charlie could do at this point was kick her out. "Who is Elaine Puckerman?" She questions, watching as Charlie's body tenses at the name. She had _definitely_ hit a nerve.


	9. Volume 02: Issue 02

Quinn took a deep breath as she studied the doors to Prometheus, they were imposing, but it was to be expected when your CEO was the most cunning and dangerous supervillain on the planet. Perhaps it was her fault that Charlie was as she was, that she had a hand in creating the monster. She wasn't stupid, she knew what Charlie was trying to do. By forcing superheroes to register she was ending how effective they could be. It would allow super-thugs to bully the people to hurt the people without consequence. More and more superheroes were getting _antsy_ about the whole thing, but that wasn't why she was here. She wasn't here to interview her twin, she wasn't there to be an investigative reporter and expose Charlie's nefarious schemes. She was here to bring Santana home.

Ever since the day that she had walked out, Santana had been avoiding her—no that wasn't quite right. Santana had abandoned her. She wasn't picking up her calls, she hadn't responded to any emails or texts—and a part of her knew that they were never going to be returned. It was why she had spent the past few days searching for her currently estranged wife. Checking in with friends and family, but none of them had seen her. She had gone to Santana's old private investigator's office but some lawyers had moved into the office. She had studied Santana's credit cards, and paid close attention to their joint bank account but Santana hadn't touched it since the first day where she had taken a few hundred dollars out. The money had to have run out by now. Which was the reason she was here. If there was anyone that could be housing Santana it was Charlie.

It was why she was currently on Charlie's turf, it was why she was currently wheeling herself through the large automatic doors that lead into Prometheus's visitor lobby. She needed Santana to come home, maybe doing this would show Santana how serious she was, how _sorry_ she was. It had been a mistake, it didn't matter that at the time that it had felt right. She had made the biggest mistake of her life and if she knew she was the bad guy in this, but she needed her wife to sit down so that they could talk. They _needed_ to talk about it.

She sighs and looks around noting all the people milling about, there was a huge sign that read visitors check in, which included what appeared to be some rent-a-cops doing basic security checks. She stares at it for a moment, before deciding to simply skip it. She wasn't going to subject herself to some _pat down_ by some underpaid staff. She instead wheels up to the large front desk which has about four secretaries working. She chooses the only one that _isn't_ on the phone, but was currently studying the computer screen in front of her. Quinn clears her throat to get the secretary's attention. Janice according to her name tag.

"Welcome to Prometheus how may we help you? One moment please." Janice responds without looking up.

Quinn blinks, not used to being ignored by a secretary no less. Well, she hadn't been used to it until she had been forced into this chair. But this was better than pity, she would take this over pity any day. Like she was _less_ than a person, or worse that she was some inspirational person. She forced a smile onto her face, this was just Janice's job; she probably wasn't some evil henchman who was being dismissive for no reason. "Hello I'm here to see my _sister_ —"

"Have you gone through security? I'm sorry but all visitors must pass through the security. I know it's a bit out of the way but there is going to be a remodel soon so it can be more streamlined. Everyone is going to need to go through security soon enough. After you get your visitor's pass you will be escorted to whichever floor you need."

"No, I haven't been through to security. I'm here to see my sister—"

"The new security measures are in place after some _super_ destroyed half the lobby attempting to talk to our CEO. I actually agree with what she said about supers, and now there have been an influx of threats from the so called good guys. What happened to freedom of speech in this country?" Janice huffed still not looking up from her computer. "They don't know _anything_ and to hear them talking so much crap about the CEO given everything she's done for this country? It's sickening, and I hope the registration passes."

Quinn stares at the woman, and there it was. Santana had talked about how the people at Prometheus sounded like they were in some cult with Charlie as their grand leader. She hadn't believed her but hearing this woman, Janice speak like that made her realize that there was a bigger problem. Janice was indicative of the general populace and the tide was turning. Her twin was extremely charismatic when she wanted to be, moving forward their entire community would need to be careful or this could snowball out of control. "I was hoping that my sister could come down here and meet me. I'd rather not have to go through security."

Janice finally looks up and her jaw drops, the resemblance was uncanny and even though she rarely saw the CEO up close she would recognize her from all the interviews. "Oh my gosh is this an episode of Undercover Boss? I'm sorry to have kept you waiting—"

"No." Quinn shakes her head quickly. It wasn't the first time someone had mistaken her for Charlie but it has been so long since that happened that it takes her a second to interrupt. She's not sure how Janice missed the _chair_ but she doesn't want to waste any more time. "I'm—I'm the twin." She settles on, finally.

"Oh." Janice replies immediately settling down before picking up the phone, no doubt calling to warn Charlie of her presence.

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, it didn't matter. She wasn't here to see her sister, she was here to find her wife.

"Which Fabray are you?" Janice asks finally her face a deep shade of red. "Her assistant needs a name."

"Quinn." She answers shortly.

Janice nods, "It's Quinn Fabray—oh—well—she hasn't been through the security measures yet. I see—alright I'll send her up in a few moments." Janice ends the call and flashes Quinn a smile. "Your sister's a genius, and she's kind too. I met her once and she knew exactly who I was and asked me about how my mother was doing. It's not many CEOs who know the names of the people who work for her."

"Right." Quinn responds curtly. "She's got a pretty good memory," Quinn added after a moment not attempting to be rude.

Janice nods and glances at the message that had just appeared on the screen, "Alright there ready for you upstairs. Just take the elevator in the corner, it's the top floor."

Quinn rolls nods wordlessly and is glad when the woman doesn't follow and instead simply pushes the button to take her to wherever she is supposed to go. It does take a few moments to get herself up to the fifty-second floor, but it gives her a moment to collect herself. Santana could be working right now and she wanted—no needed to make a good impression. She exhales when the elevator door dings and there is someone standing at the entrance waiting impatiently for her.

"Quinn Fabray, I'm guessing? Stupid question, you look just like her." He shakes his head and gestures for her to follow him. "I am Charlie's personal assistant, Kurt."

Quinn ground her teeth slightly at the name. She's heard about Kurt and his sadistic attempts to torture Santana with paperwork. "I'm looking for Santana."

Kurt stops and turns to look at Quinn, studying her for a moment. "Of course you are. She doesn't work in this building anymore, at least not as far as I know. And even if she did she hasn't shown up to work in about two weeks. I imagine she's still nursing some injuries." Kurt explains. "Now that's been taking care of, the elevator is that way please leave."

"I'm not going to _leave_. She's my wife—"

"Of course you aren't simply going to leave." Kurt makes no attempt to hide his eye roll. "That's the thing with you supers, there's always so much _drama_." He sighs and pulls up his tablet so he can check to see if she's checked in anywhere. "Look, Santana isn't here, and according to records hasn't clocked in at all for the past two weeks like I said. Either way I really don't care where she _is_ , so I suggest you take your drama elsewhere."

"She's my _wife_." Quinn repeats getting angry. This wasn't some poorly scripted drama this was her life. She was attempting to save her marriage. If she could walk she wouldn't have let Santana leave, if she had been fast enough. This was her fault she wouldn't have needed to sully her name by working for Prometheus if her back hadn't been broken.

"Right. Perhaps, and this is a suggestion, you should have thought of that before you _chose_ to sleep with a mutual friend. Oh don't give me that look, who do you think dropped the pictures on Charlie's desk when the private investigators snapped some very racy photos of you and a one Rachel Berry." Kurt retorts with a wave of his hand. He ran Charlie's life, he had her back and she paid him a fortune to do it. Even if she didn't he would still do it. One of Charlie's patents had helped save his father's life. It wasn't something that he had mentioned to Charlie, though it was possible that she already knew but he was grateful.

Despite how frustrating his job could be, and how difficult managing Charlie was, if this was how he was going to make the world a better place, a more technologically advanced place then so be it. He considered Charlie to be a dear friend even if he wasn't quite sure what Charlie felt towards him. He knew that she trusted him. That she listened to his advice sometimes, that he was one of the few people who had her ear.

"My relationship with my wife is none of your business. You made her life _hell_ here—"

"Of course I did. Because I didn't approve of her working that close to Charlie and not because I thought that Charlie was going to seduce your wife. I was worried about this very eventuality that you would show up and that would be _bad_." Kurt responded bluntly. He normally has a plan for every potential scenario, but he had never actually expected Quinn to show up. She wasn't like their parents that seemed to drop by every three weeks to 'check-in' on Charlie, which was really just code for picking up a new check to fund their opulent lifestyle. Brittany had barely managed to contain Charlie's rage towards her twin and right now Brittany was in Hong Kong again, even though he had Charlie's ear, he wasn't quite sure he knew how to manage these emotions. He had needed to call in Brittany when Charlie had received the damn wedding invitations. It took weeks to get Charlie back to her baseline mood, and even longer to get her inventing again. If there was one thing he hated more than anything was when his boss was brooding.

Quinn gritted her teeth when the sound of a door opening caught her attention, and she tilted her head to see that her sister was exiting her office. She moves quickly, not caring that she wheeled over Kurt's expensive shoes as she approached Charlie. "Where is she?" Charlie glanced up from where she was rooting through Kurt's desk and flicked her eyes towards her sister. This time there was no denying the hatred in Charlie's eyes. But just like that it was gone, replaced by an uninterested look. "Where is my wife?"

Charlie turns back to Kurt, "I know you were the one that took my tool kit from my office. So where did you hide it this time?"

Kurt straightened up, she hadn't ripped his head off or attempted to fire him, which was probably a good sign. "You've got paperwork. There is a shareholders meeting next month followed by some various expos—"

"No, I'd rather spend that time in the lab," Charlie informs him before turning her attention back to ripping his desk apart. "My tools Kurt."

"Is this what you do now? Pretend that I don't exist? Pretend that you're better than me and I'm nothing?" Quinn demands heading towards her sister. Stopping when she was right in front of her. "I just want to find my wife Charlie."

Charlie continues to tear apart Kurt's desk, side stepping her sister. She didn't want to think about Santana, who was currently creating a permanent butt-groove in her custom furniture. Or the fact that two weeks of food had disappeared because Santana had gotten into it, apparently her powers heightened her metabolism or something stupid like that. Honestly she was torn between selling Santana out so she could get back her apartment and fucking with Quinn. Though in any given situation given how much she _loathed_ her twin, fucking with Quinn generally won out. "You know the telephone was one of the greatest inventions in the nineteenth century, but now there is email, and skype and Facetime not to mention various tracking apps, Lucy. I suggest that you go and _find_ your wife that way."

Quinn scowled, "You think that you can scare me? Santana already knows that I cheated on her, she knows who broke my back you don't have anything on me anymore. So if you think that you're going to worm your way into her heart, and make her _love you_. She'll always be thinking about me _Charlotte_." Quinn snipes back.

"Good for her. I just said I don't know where she is. So now I'm giving you the choice to leave on your own accord or have you forcibly removed by security."

Kurt sighed, "Ma'am we can't have security forcibly remove your sister, who is in a wheelchair. It's terrible publicity. They'll start asking questions and taking a closer look at your family life." It would be a public relations nightmare.

"Interesting, one would think that people with disabilities would want to be treated like everyone else instead of wanting me to be nice to them simply because they have disabilities. Well, take her out back then."

"Do you really think you have the _power_ in this situation anymore? You don't have secrets to lord over me and make me fall in line. I've got a voice now. I have people who listen to me, I'm in the media. Do you still think you'll have followers when they see how you treat your own family? When they know that the only reason you're trying to create a registration act was because you're nothing more than a scared little girl? One that was jealous of _my_ power?"

Charlie turned to her sister and was about to take a step towards her when Kurt immediately blocked her path, " _Ma'am_."

"Right, you want to see real power Quinn? If you don't roll your sorry ass out of my building in thirty seconds, I am going to buy that god awful company that hired you. I am then going to _bleed_ it for all of its resources. Maybe I'll lose some money, but what I do know is that every single person who works in that company will be out of a job in two weeks. Including you. They'll find other jobs, maybe even better jobs. Who knows some of them might even come work for me, but you? I'll make sure you're just a _hack_. That the best job that you can get is doing nothing more than writing for some shitty _entertainment_ rag." Charlie snaps back, and smirks when she sees the doubt flicker in Quinn's eyes.

Quinn hates herself for the moment of weakness, the small chink in her armor that let her twin through. "When you see her tell her to get in touch with me." She settles on. She's not going to get any closer to Santana now and she has to leave before she does something she can't take back.

"I'm not your personal answering service." Charlie retorts and Quinn's retreating frame. "Tell her yourself."

"Fuck you." Quinn snaps as she practically throws herself into the elevator. How dare Charlie talk to her like that? Like she's fucking _expendable_? She was a hero and she wasn't going to listen to Charlie's threats. No matter what anyone said, Charlie was a villain. That much was clear.

The ride down the elevator feels longer than it did on the way up and she wants to scream with frustration. There isn't even enough water in the air for her to bend and twist it to her will. Fuck them. She wants to scream but also doesn't want to give Charlie the satisfaction. Finally, the elevator reaches the floor and she storms her way out of there as quickly as she can. She doesn't look around as she makes her way out of the lobby, her rage still fueling every part of her to get her out of there before Charlie can fuck up one more thing in her life. She stops only when a badly concealed Finn Hudson trips into her path. Great, that's _just_ what she needs.

Finn eyes her awkwardly. They've done a pretty good job of avoiding each other ever since the incident, but right now all they do is eye each other warily.

She hates Finn, almost as much as she hates Charlie. With a nod in his general direction, she turns away and wheels herself back to the sidewalk determined to get out of there as quickly as possible. He's clearly here to scout out Prometheus to try and bring Charlie down one more time and Quinn frankly doesn't care which one of them wins. She hopes they kill each other. That would be ideal.


	10. Volume 02: Issue 03

Santana opened the fridge, unabashedly pulling out the large slice of apple pie—it might be the last one but she fucking deserved it after apartment searching all day—and closes the door with her foot. She turns back to the couch and Charlie's spare laptop that seems to be overflowing with potential rat infested apartments.

How the hell did anyone ever do this?

She flopped back on Charlie's ridiculously comfortable couch and glares at the laptop for being the bane of her existence. She's been at this for hours and is bored out of her mind, the good ones were out of her budget and even though she got paid well—her credit score was shit. "What the hell." She muses to herself, glancing around just to confirm that Charlie's not watching over her shoulder.

Once upon a time she had been a private investigator, a job that felt like a life-time ago even though she had called it quits a few months ago. She sighs pushing that thought away immediately, she needed to remain positive and focus on the task at hand—despite the fact that Charlie told her in no uncertain terms to 'fuck off' and mind her own business. Now she needed to know who this Elaine Puckerman was. A nemesis? An old friend? A girlfriend? She had no context for Charlie's sudden refusal to talk about her. The office had become out of bounds to her.

Charlie's strong reaction could only mean one thing: there was a story behind it, and now Santana couldn't resist. The cards on the desk had looked like wedding invitations, but there hadn't been a date on them and as far as she knew, as far as the world knew Charlie had a new girl on her arm nearly every day. There had never been a story about any serious girlfriend and people were interested in Charlie's life. She was both infamous and famous depending on who you asked. The simplest way to start would be a quick google search. Then she'd cross-reference that information from what she knew about Charlie's life. Even though if she really thought about it and was honest with herself, after Charlie had decided to stay at the academy things were a blur. Quinn rarely mentioned her twin and Charlie's parents didn't really seem to be as involved. Maybe if she had kept in touch, maybe she would be in the loop.

"Dr. Elaine Puckerman—a Ph.D. in the Classics?" Santana snorted, that couldn't be the person that Charlie knew. Charlie was a scientist first and foremost, and she always seemed to be moving forward, creating new technology. It didn't make sense to be with someone or even deal with someone who was so stuck in the past. It seemed that person was a professor as well, Charlie as far as she knew dated supermodels, and actresses and the most beautiful people in the world not frumpy professors. She scrolls down her eyes landing on an obituary, it's from Kentucky. She glances at the pie, and then the fridge that had been stocked filled with ribs and chicken—it was possible that Charlie had been in Kentucky, or had stopped there.

 _'_ _Dr. Puckerman loved the classics and will be missed by her students and the countless lives that she touched throughout the years. Taken from us too soon, she is survived by her parents, Raymond and Ruth Puckerman, and her siblings. In lieu of flowers—'_ Santana skimmed the rest of the article. There had been no mention of Charlie. She wasn't quite sure what that meant. Had Charlie had something to do with her death? Had they broken up before she died? Charlie's general surliness and the pain that had flashed through her eyes—and maybe a bit of guilt. It was possible that she felt responsible, maybe she had contracted some disease or there had been a lab accident.

She exits the tab, and leans back in the chair. It was rather sobering to realize that she knew _nothing_ about someone who she had once claimed was a close friend. She didn't know what had happened. One moment they were playing in the dirt and playing house, then there powers had come in around puberty. Charlie had waited for her powers eagerly, but they had never come. Maybe it was around that time that they had started to leave her behind, but she still tried to keep up. She used to make these little devices out of basic household items which generally didn't go so well but it was cute if not embarrassing. She was happier back then. Then there had been some standardized test at school and all she could remember was that Charlie was taken away for testing. There had been talks about intelligence tests, and then finally the men in suits had come to talk to Charlie's parents. Charlie had gone to the academy and even though they had promised to remain friends forever things changed between the three of them.

Maybe the first sign of the fracture of their friendship was the first time that Charlie had come home on a school break. Back when she was still happy, she had come back with rolls of the material to help her with her powers. Back then her parents were spending a fortune buying her new clothes because of how often they caught on fire. She had been a walking fire hazard especially since back then her fuse had been shorter. But Charlie had come back with the breathable material and talking about polymers and molecules and how amazing her school was because she wasn't bored anymore. They let her build and create things under supervision with a lab, and they gave her so many books to read, and she had the best teachers. They were no longer on the same level, and Charlie struggled to keep things simple so that people could understand her. She seemed to have mastered the skill but it had clearly taken time and effort, none of which they were willing to help her with. It was probably why Charlie's relationship with Quinn devolved till the point that Charlie had chosen to simply remain at the academy and learn.

And then, all of the sudden, it was like Charlie was just _gone_. How had she just let that happen? She hated that she still didn't know. She sighs and tries to think of another search term when a little box pops up in the top right hand corner of the computer.

"Get over here, _now_." Kurt barks at her suddenly.

She's not sure if she's more startled to see his pale-ass face on the screen or that she might have been caught looking into something that Charlie insisted wasn't any of her business. "Why?"

" _Why?_ " Kurt rolls his eyes. "Because you have a _job_ —" There's a crash that comes from somewhere outside, but Kurt doesn't even look toward it. "There's some idiot super here and your _boss_ needs her bodyguard, or glorified secretary or whatever you are, to take him out."

"Take him out—?" Santana rubs her eyes tiredly. "I don't have my suit—"

"One, I don't need excuses. I need you to get your big ass over here and do your _job_."

"Listen here, Cupcake. I don't have my _mask_ , I can't—"

Another crash makes Kurt's camera shake and he leans forward toward it. "You think everyone here _cares_ about your 'secret identity'. We all _know_. Everyone who is anyone has signed a million confidentiality agreements and the entire building signed one about your secret identity. It's why it hasn't been leaked in the entire time you've worked for Prometheus. Charlie's an ass, but she protected it and it's now it's time you get off your fat ass and pay her back for her kindness, instead of moping around like a wounded animal."

It catches her by surprise, and she hadn't really given it much thought, she hadn't expected Charlie to keep her identity _hidden_. Not like this, as far as she knew the normal people generally gave her a wide berth except for the guys she worked with in the lab, they seemed to enjoy working with her and asking her questions about her abilities. "She really did that?"

Kurt sighs and looks away from the screen for a moment, the frown on his face growing deeper. "Look, real talk? Your relationship might be complicated with Charlie but what I do know is that Charlie truly cares about every last one of her employees at Prometheus. You might think she's cavalier about certain things, but safety is _important_ to her. So yes, she protected your secret identity. And now you need to keep her safe from not only some _super_ but from herself. She may be the smartest person in the world, but she's about to do something _stupid_ and asinine. I think to make a point. She's already evacuated most of the building and the surrounding ones, unfortunately the top level floors haven't managed to evacuate yet. I've dispatched a helicopter for you so get to the roof—"

"Charlie went toe to toe with me what about the—"

There's another crash and screaming is heard as well as the sound of people running. A wave of dust blows past "It's a _prototype_ and we only have the one and are currently in negotiation with the State Department and the President about it. She doesn't currently have access to it. The ETA is two minutes for the helicopter. It takes Charlie ten minutes to get to work from her apartment whenever she takes the helicopter. So charge up or do whatever it is you do—"

 _'_ _Kurt. I told you to leave. You need to get out of here now.'_

It's Charlie's voice in the background and Kurt turns probably to bitch at her when the screen suddenly cuts out. "Kurt?" Santana asks shaking the device for a moment. She swears loudly and glances down at herself. She was a _mess_ but there wasn't time to think about that now. She brushes the crumbs off her shirt and immediately gets up, this was what she _lived_ for, and more importantly she finally got to punch someone, something that she had wanted to do for the past two weeks.

~O~

She arrives no less than ten minutes later and gapes at the destruction around her. The tall modern building that housed Prometheus had a gaping hole in the side like someone had taken a bite out of it. Shards of glass went flying as more dust whipped around the area. There were already news helicopters and vans in the street trying to be the ones to break the story. This was a disaster.

There is another cloud of dust that rushes out of the building causing her to cover her eyes for a moment. She couldn't hear anything over the chopper blades, but if there was one thing that she knew it was that she needed to get down there quickly before the entire building collapsed. Whichever hero had thought this was a good idea was an _idiot_. Public opinion had still been on their side in Charlie's war, it was waning but they were still beloved by others. This could be the straw that broke the camel's back. The people who worked at Prometheus weren't masterminds they were innocent people doing their god damn jobs. And if Charlie survived this, she was smart and charismatic enough to turn the tide in her favor.

"I got this," Santana yells towards the pilot, she waits until he turns to look at her before flashing him a thumbs up. He nods and she unbuckles her seatbelt and moves towards the opening in the helicopter before diving off, waiting for a moment till she gets clear of the helicopter before using her powers to soak in the energy from the sun. She feels it coursing through her, charging her up as she glides toward the mayhem. She lands on one of the floors scrambling quickly to get away from the edge, and in the process nearly trips over a body. She recognizes the uniform as one of Charlie's many security guards. Rent-a-cops. She had no idea what they were doing but they still didn't deserve this.

She grits her teeth tightly and storms toward the source of the destruction. The first thing was first she needed to find Charlie. Then after that they needed to, well she didn't know but Charlie would. She looks around. Charlie's office was up on the fifty-second floor but judging from all the swanky offices and locked cabinets, she was probably on one of the legal department floors. A company as big as Prometheus had an entire in-house law-firm working just for them. Judging from the state of the art locked cabinets, this was probably the patent law floor. Which meant that there may be some of Charlie's toys laying around. The only problem was that she didn't know any of the codes required, and even if she did, that didn't mean that she knew _how_ to use the devices that Charlie cooked up.

"I can't believe it but Ray was _right_ ," Charlie grumbled, wincing as she dragged left leg up and over to one of the cabinets as quickly as she could. "A gun would be handy right now. So where the hell did I put the damn thing." Bullets wouldn't work, but she had in her boredom designed a sound wave gun, something non-lethal, and if she couldn't find that—well there was always the portable laser rifle which she had helped design with some MIT graduates. "Mental note, build another aegis. I'll call it Aegis Mach 2 that sounds cool. It needs to be cool."

"Charlie?" Santana asks skidding to a halt.

Charlie glances at Santana for a moment before going back to opening cabinets. "Did you find an apartment yet?"

"You're bleeding—"

"Because your week is over tomorrow."

"Can we focus on the bad guy destroying your company right now?"

Charlie rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever." It's a testament to the blood dripping down her leg that she doesn't push the issue. "Found it!" Charlie smirks grabbing the oversized weapon and hoisting it onto her shoulder. She stumbles forward and grimaces, as she catches herself.

"How about you let me do it?" Santana offers. Charlie's clearly not in any shape to be battling a super.

"And let you destroy a multi-million dollar prototype?" Charlie scoffs. "I don't think so." She tries to stumble toward the door only to trip as her injured leg hits some debris and falls hard to the ground. The portable laser rifle thankfully takes most of the damage, shattering against the tile floor.

Santana snorts. "What was that, again?"

"Shut up and help me—" Charlie doesn't get a chance to finish her demand and Santana groans when the super steps into the storage room.

"Charlie Fabray. It's time someone brought you to justice."

" _Finn_?" Santana cringes, pinching the bridge of her nose at the sight of him standing in the doorway in what she was sure was supposed to be an intimidating stance. It was embarrassing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Santana?" Finn pulls up his mask as if that will give him a better view, forgetting about the cameras that were following him. "What are you doing here? I called this one."

"Do you have any idea of how _stupid_ this is? How many people you put in _danger_?" Santana can't believe he would be this idiotic. "You don't even have proof that Charlie's done anything wrong."

"So what, you're on her _side_ now?" Finn's eyes narrow and he snaps the mask back into place. "I don't have to have proof. She's a villain. Everybody knows it. I'm going to bring her to justice."

"Justice? You _killed my security_ ," Charlie hisses. She knew who this lunatic was, now that she saw his face. The man who had broken Quinn's back. She hadn't been sure whether she wanted to send him an edible arrangement or have him taken out. She had chosen to leave it alone, she should have had him taken out. "The men and women who work here at my building for what? It's not as if I haven't been arrested before."

"That's on you," Finn snaps at her reaching for her. He was going to end this now, the Fabray family had been the bane of his existence. They had cost him everything the love of his life, and then Charlie was appearing on the news demanding that they stopped being heroes to make it easier to change the world. As far as he was concerned the police couldn't keep Charlie locked up, and if that was the case they needed to throw her in with the other super-powered villains. "You're under arrest."

"I'm an unpowered civilian, this entire building had _unpowered_ people working on it, doing their jobs and you burst in here like you _owned_ the place for what? So you could arrest me? The _police have done it before and no one has died_." Charlie snaps at him. The police weren't perfect but this was a clusterfuck. She didn't resist when he grabbed her arm, she didn't even flinch under the pressure, he didn't know how to control his strength and she knew that if they took an X-ray later there would be fractures.

Santana reaches for Charlie's arm to pull her back only for Charlie to hold her hand up. There wasn't a look of smugness on her face that signified that she had won, she just looked irritated. She had proven her point in a devastating way. They needed to be put on a leash. Finn was too stupid to realize but he had just put a target on all their backs. "Santana don't there's been enough destruction today."

Finn narrows his eyes at Charlie and crosses his arms over his chest. "Don't tell her what to do."

"Finn, _shut up_. I'm perfectly capable of talking to Charlie myself." Santana scolds him. The last thing supers need is Finn making some idiotic comment that cements their future. She can already hear choppers on their way and knows that news crews aren't far behind. She knows this entire floor is equipped with camera and audio surveillance to protect the patents stored there and isn't willing to let him risk it. "She's my _boss_ so back the hell down."

"Your _boss_?" Finn scoffs. "She's not better than us, she's just another pathetic human that needs us to save her. What's worse is that she's a _villain_ Santana. They're the bad guys."

Santana can't take it anymore. She's sure those sound-bites are going to be the final nail in their proverbial coffin. "Look around, Finn. Did _Charlie_ kill all these people? Did _Charlie_ put their lives in danger? No. _You_ did. For your childish ego."

"They're collateral damage. It happens." Finn made a face at this statement tilting his head a bit at the sound of footsteps that sounded like marching. "I didn't believe people when they said that you had joined the dark side but I'll tell the containment unit to take you in as well. Maybe she's brainwashed you or something—" Finn nods that had to be it.

"Or perhaps she decided to work for me because you broke her wife's back and she needed the money." Charlie interrupted, her voice strained, his grip was tight and she made a mental note to never leave home without a version of the aegis. Also she couldn't help poking at the powder keg that was this situation.

Santana turned to Finn, Charlie was right—this idiot had put his hands on her _wife_. He had _crippled her_ , if it hadn't been for him she wouldn't be here right now. "I'm going to kill you." Santana hisses at him.

Finn immediately lets Charlie go, shoving her hard into one of the cabinets as he turned to Santana. "She was _fucking my wife_."

Santana sneered her fist clenching tightly, "Then you should have fucking _told me_. I didn't break your _ex-wife's_ back did I? I didn't put her in the fucking hospital despite the fact that I wanted to." She wanted to wrap her hands around Rachel's neck and squeeze but she didn't want to give into those base desires. More importantly she was scared at who Quinn would choose to protect.

"I did you a favor," Finn snaps back holding his hands up before pointing at Charlie who was forcing herself back to her feet. "Their entire family is _rotten_. Rotten to the core and—"

Santana didn't hesitate darting down low for a moment before slamming her fist upward into his jaw sending Finn flying back. " _Shut-up_! Shut-up! Shut—you don't get to talk to her like that. You're a fucking moron Finn do you know what you've done?" Santana moved quickly pushing herself onto Finn, tackling the giant to the ground and began to pummel him with her fists, each punch landing as she rained down blows onto his face. This had been all on him, maybe if he had been a better husband, smarter better he could have kept Rachel's paws off Quinn. This asshole had hurt her wife, had killed innocent people in the name of _justice_ and she wasn't going to fucking take it anymore. Everything shitty that had happened in her life as of late was his fault and she was going to—

Charlie stumbles forward and wraps her arms around Santana's chest and neck and immediately attempts to pull her off. "Santana, _enough_. You're going to kill him and make a mess. And I'm sick and tired of cleaning up after your messes and you breaking my shit and stealing my shit. There's been more than enough bloodshed today."

Charlie's words are enough to cause her to turn, "I don't steal your shit."

"Yes. You do. I know you took the last piece of pie. He's done so _enough._ _Enough_." Charlie repeats again. She glances up at the swarm of the cities super-powered detainment team, " _Finally._ Glad to see my tax dollars at work." Charlie sneered falling back onto her back her body finally giving out as the adrenaline evaporated from her body.

Santana glanced up at all the guns that were pointed at her and Finn and she quickly realized that Finn's actions had _fucked_ her too. They would be hauling her in, which meant that she'd be put into a specialized prison with criminals that she helped put away—and worst of all she'd be without the sun to charge her up. But she immediately puts her hands behind her head like they ask and switches off her powers. This really wasn't looking good for her.

"Secure the area, get a medical Evac in here, but I want this one to be under surveillance until we can sort this snafu out," someone barked kicking Charlie's leg gently to make sure she was still alive. Santana snorted when Charlie flipped him off.

~O~

She'd been expecting to spend the night in general lockup while they sorted out this entire mess, so she's pleasantly surprised when they immediately lead her toward a private cell close to the booking area. Normally, she's pretty sure they use this spot as the drunk tank but it's been apparently cleaned out and secured for her own use. Not that she'd complain about that. She'd been anticipating at least a few uncomfortable reunions with some of the scum she'd help put away. They probably wouldn't get to her until morning, so she settles in on the dirty cot in the corner and lays down to try to pass the time.

"Up and at 'em, you've been bailed out."

Santana gapes at the cop who unlocks the cell door and holds it open for her. She _knows_ Quinn doesn't have the money to come bail her out and probably wouldn't have done it anyway. "Seriously?"

"Unfortunately." Kurt scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest disapprovingly. "Prometheus protects its own. Our PR department and legal team when on a huge joint campaign immediately to get you out. We want to make it clear that we're not against all Super's just against the lack of regulation."

"How's Charlie?"

"The same bitch she's always been." Kurt shrugs, but Santana can see the small tug up at the corner of his lips that belies his relief. "She's going to be fine but she wanted me to tell you that you get to stay at her place for the next few weeks. She won't be using it and she doesn't want any idiot supers trying to retaliate while she recuperates. But she also told me to warn you not to break anything else."

He doesn't say that Charlie's grateful for her efforts. "So what now? Do I go in front of a judge or—"

"What you need Santana is to choose a side, but that can come later. Things will start happening quickly now. These things do, and right now the world is furious with all supers. You might get caught in some crossfire so we're taking every precaution to make sure that doesn't happen. So no more sitting on your ass all day and eating everything that isn't nailed down."

"How did you—"

"Charlie bitched about it," Kurt interrupted her.

Santana shrugs her shoulder a bit, before nodding. Of course she knew, there was probably that escaped Charlie's notice. "There is one thing that I need to do—um maybe the Prometheus lawyers can help me with something?"

"What is that?"

All the time in holding had made her think about Finn about her life and what she needed to do to move on. "I want a divorce Kurt—I think I might need a lawyer for that."

Kurt nods not seeming surprised at all by this turn of events. "I'll schedule a meeting with someone that the top brass have used." Kurt responded quickly.


	11. Volume 02: Issue 04

Charlie scratches her shoulder and scans through the footage on her tablet. Everything Prometheus was supposed to be has been bulldozed by some idiot who figured that vigilante justice was a better alternative to due process and civil liberties. Her leg hurts and she's grumpy as fuck. There should be construction crews and designers remodeling the building if PR and the legal team weren't insistent that America needed to see first-hand the damage that unchecked Supers were capable of. The board was going along with it because their stock was through the roof. Every single member of the media was talking about the amazing work Prometheus had done, all the good that it had accomplished while lambasting Supers, who didn't do nearly as much good for the planet.

She blows out a breath and puts down her tablet, glancing around at the mess of odd tools and spare parts. She _hated_ being in her mansion alone, but she was stuck gimping around until some stupid ass doctor decided she was cleared to go back to work. Apparently her leg, which still hurt like a bitch, only made her 'sympathetic' to the American people if it kept her from going back to work and saving the world. Her PR team insisted that she wasn't allowed back until she made a full recovery, even adding that maybe an extended vacation would be good for her.

Fuck them. She snorts in derision and picks up the watch she has been working on, needing to find something to do with her hands to keep her mind off all this stupid fucking fuckery. She was saving the world, one invention after another. She was supposed to be out there finishing the Aegis and working through all of the idiot problems that still kept coming up due to other people's incompetence. Keeping her home, out of the office, like she was _expendable_ was a straight up joke. Her genius was the one that had built Prometheus.

At least the PR play and sympathy campaign didn't stop her from working at home. Even with Santana still squatting on her couch, she was able to get a fair amount of work done uninterrupted. The only thing she really had to worry about was the many calls for interviews and appearances to calm the world's newfound fear of the danger of unrestrained Supers.

Idiots.

If America had been able to see the danger that these stupid-ass Supers brought around, maybe she wouldn't have to rebuild her headquarters every few months, and her insurance rates wouldn't be through the fucking roof. Maybe a lot of things would be different. She feels her eyes well up at the thought and she wipes them away quickly.

"What's that?" A voice asks and she jumps. She whips around to face her intruder only to cringe as her body reminded her that she had basically been hit by a freight train.

"Where the hell did you come from?" She asks, not bothering to hide her surprise.

Noah smirks and crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. "I thought you were supposed to be some freaky genius person. Don't you have, like, cameras or shit to see that I _walked up to your front door_ and used a key?"

Charlie shrugs. She _does_ have cameras and alarms and tripwires but her augmented reality contacts are out and she had been too focused on watching her building being searched for structural integrity to care much about her own personal visitors. She couldn't believe that they were, "Did Ray send you?"

Noah shakes his head. "Ma saw the news and since I was heading up to the area anyway I told her I would drop by and check on you. She sent me with a truckload of food—"

Charlie brightens at the mention, but frowns at the self-satisfied smirk that dances along Noah's features.

"— _but_ I ate like half of it."

"Of course you did." She blows out another breath and they both fall silent. They used to be something that resembled friends, but she hasn't seen Noah in a long time. He was busy Air Force, or something.

Noah watches her fiddle with the thing in her hands for a minute before he shakes his head. "They were worried about you, you know. Dad wants you to get a gun or something."

"I'm fine." Charlie waves away the concern. "Don't tell Ray, but he was right."

"Right? About what?" Noah frowns. "You didn't answer my question. What is that?"

" _This_ is a new prototype I'm working on." Charlie shrugs and puts it down. She's really only got one good hand to grip everything with since she had also apparently shattered some vitally important bone in her wrist. She had stopped paying attention after the doctor had opened his mouth. She had seen her X-rays, a her scaphoid and lunate were fractured, as well as three of her ribs and then there was the deep gash in her leg. "But let's just say it's my version of a 'something' to protect myself with."

"Yeah? And how's it supposed to do that?"

Charlie taps the watch, watching as it slowly transformed into a gauntlet and flicked her wrist at him watching as he flinched back, but nothing happened. She snorts in amusement and taps the gauntlet again as it transforms back into a watch. "I haven't decided. There are a lot of non-lethal methods that I could employ. I'm torn between a high pitched frequency or a beam that creates motion sickness in the target and makes you sick." Charlie tilted her head. She had hit Santana with it, and the effects weren't permanent, considering the fact that she was eating her food again.

"A puke gun?"

There was child-like glee in his voice, and Charlie looked up at him. "Yes Noah, for lack of a better term a _puke_ gun. I'm aware it's every boy's fantasy to own something as cool as that but I'm looking at this in a cost-analysis way. Cleaning up vomit is far simpler to clean up than constantly replacing windows. If this is the method I choose, I should ask HR to perhaps give the cleaning staff a raise and an apology."

Noah frowned slightly and flopped down on a chair across from her. "As fun as that sounds, I don't know why you just don't make lethal weapons. If anyone could make the perfect weapon. They can still get up from something like this, and them being disorientated and as strong and as powerful as they are? They're still a threat. You need to put them down, so they don't get back up."

"Hammurabi's code—"

"Don't do that—use those terms to confuse me. Elaine used to do it all the time to make me feel stupid." Noah scowled, but there was a fondness in his voice.

"If it makes you feel better she didn't do it to make you feel stupid. She just wanted you to crack open a book once in a while. Though back to my point, I'll quote the bible. Exodus—"

"Do you just have it memorized?" Noah grumbled.

"Exodus chapter twenty-one verse twenty-four— 'an eye for an eye a tooth for a tooth—' either way the world ends up blind and toothless and while I hear that makes for nice blowjobs, people without teeth creep me out."

"Babies have no teeth," Noah smirks pleased with himself thinking he's finally managed to score one against her.

"I don't see how that disproves my point," Charlie retorts. She puts the screwdriver down. "Your sister, used to remind me when I would get upset. That revenge wasn't worth it, it just started a vicious endless cycle, and it would be like Sisyphus. Also I have better uses of my time."

Noah frowned, his mom had said that she was worried about her, but he didn't know it had gotten this bad. "You do know she wasn't perfect, right? Growing up she was a little know-it-all bitch and I don't think that ever went away. I know you miss her Charlie, but you've put her up on this pedestal. She wasn't perfect."

"I _know_ that."

"Do you?"

"Cause Elaine could be petty, she wasn't a saint—"

" _I know_."

Noah didn't say anything in response to that instead watching Charlie go back to fiddling with the device. "I miss her too you know. You're not the only one in pain. She was my baby sister."

Charlie swallows, and frowns when her screwdrivers slips out of her fingers and drops to the ground. She grunts and grabs the walking stick that they gave her so she can try and shimmy it towards her but she only ends up sending the screwdriver scuttling away. She looks up at Noah expectantly but he hasn't budged. "Seriously? Your mom should have sent Jake. I like _him_ better than I like you."

"You should have a butler to do this type of shit."

Charlie rolls her eyes and leans back so she can stare at him until he feels uncomfortable enough to bend down and pick up her screwdriver and hand it back. "I don't _want_ a butler—and why didn't your mother send Jake? I like Jake."

"Dad's still pissed that Jake asked you for money. Why did you give him money?"

"Because I like Jake?" Charlie repeats as if it was obvious. "It was an investment, one that probably wouldn't have panned out, but there's always a chance right? I honestly have never seen Ray so mad though."

"Dad was _furious_ , at least he hadn't spent that much of it. Dad would have sold the farm to pay you back," Noah shook his head. "He's going to need a job you know. Jake, I mean mom's pretty worried and she doesn't want him knocking up the girl he's with. Mom thinks she's trailer trash."

"Is she trailer trash?" Charlie asks, there had been a bit of gossip while she had been with the Puckerman's but she hadn't seen Jake at all and Puck was generally busy.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, mom just thinks she's a slut. You know my mom doesn't like judging nobody, but there is a line and she crossed it. Apparently sleeping with both of her boys was that line."

Charlie leaned forward a grin on her face. " _No_. Noah you didn't?"

"I didn't know that she was Jake's girl at the time!" Noah said getting defensive immediately. He frowns when Charlie laughs uproariously. "It's not funny!"

"Well. At least there's no kid involved, your mom would have a fit if you three ended up on the Maury show."

Noah made a face, "Dad would have killed us both first. Dad doesn't see it as a big deal, says that Jake's just sowing his wild oats or whatever. That all Puckerman's need to do it. Honestly I didn't know who she was and apparently she was getting back at Jake for cheating. They worked it out eventually. But dad doesn't like her either, she's not allowed in the house, he says she's trouble. That's why Jake wasn't there to see you, mom and dad were afraid that she might ask you for money and put you in a position. Or try and seduce you." Charlie snorts at this statement and Noah rolls his eyes. "Speaking of seduction, help me win a bet that I have with one of my buddies. All those girls that people see you with—are they escorts? Like you just pick up a catalogue and choose them or are they real women? Like you meet them and are you really getting that much pussy?"

Charlie studied Noah for a moment, she could already tell where this conversation was going. "They're _real_ women. Most of them are models or actresses and various other celebrities. My image is crafted and whichever pretty woman I'm seen with it gets the rumor mill going. People wondering if I'm already going to settle down. And yes Noah, I really do get laid that often. Whoever you see me with chances are I've probably slept with them."

" _Fucking_ knew it." Noah pumps his hands in the air. He smirks at Charlie and leans in only for Charlie to hold her hands up to stop him.

"No one matches up to her, and I keep comparing them and it's not healthy for me to be with anyone. It's been _years_ and I can't help it. I can't talk about it and I don't want to, Brittany is about the closest thing that I've had to a real relationship since her and Brittany's probably going to be married within the next few years. So I know your mom wants me to start looking—"

Noah shrugs. That had been his intention, his mom had harped on him to help her find a _nice_ girl, someone classy. Why his mom trusted his opinion on classy was beyond him. Charlie was a force, but Elaine had been a force too, she could handle Charlie's moods and she didn't get offended when Charlie was more interested in solving some technological wonder than spending time with her. Elaine had found it difficult at first to balance the genius with the rest of Charlie, in fact that they had nearly broken up until his mom had given them both a good talking too. Whatever she had said seemed to have worked because they had come back stronger than ever. Charlie wasn't going to just _forget_ that love and if she had, she wasn't the person he thought she was. She needed to find another force to be reckoned with, someone who could put up with her shit. "I was going to ask if you were up for a party tonight where you open your little black book and invite some girls over."

Charlie stared at Noah for a moment and motions for her ring and the contact lenses case on the coffee table out of her reach. "I don't _want_ to stay cooped up in this big mansion by myself. I also don't like _hiding_ , this feels like hiding and licking my wounds. I want to show the world that I'm _not_ afraid."

"That's the spirit!"

"Also when this inevitably backfires and your mother starts to yell at me for being foolish, I'm going to say it was your idea. Now hand me my contacts and my ring and help me find something to wear—you're also going to need _something_. We'll pick something up on the way. You're also going to have to drive Noah, because I can't not in this condition. Though we could test out my new self-driving—"

"No. I got it— I fucking hate autopilot." Noah shudders at the thought. But grins, "Alright, let me just put all the food mom made for you in the fridge and then we'll head out and party just like old times."

Charlie nodded, though the intelligent part of her brain wanted to remind her that 'old times' generally meant that they were nearly arrested or got into bar fights. Well, they were in her territory now. What could possibly go wrong?"

~O~

Santana had gotten weirdly comfortable sleeping on Charlie's couch. It was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. Even though she was normally a fairly light sleeper she had basically made that couch her home. So she was a little surprised to be woken at three o'clock in the morning by a crash at the front door. She curses the fact that she hasn't charged up in a while but sprints to the light switch, fully intending on taking out the intruder no matter what it took. She was surprised as the light flooded into the hallway to see Charlie who had stumbled back against the opposite wall to the door.

"Fuck, it's you." Charlie chuckles to herself, way more loudly than she normally would have, as she leans heavily on her cane. "I didn't think you'd be here—why are you here again?"

She practically reeks of alcohol and Santana has never really seen her this plastered. In fact Charlie _never drank_ , she was sure of it. She had heard Kurt commenting on it while he booked her appointments. Something about keeping her wits about her. "Yeah, it's me you said I could stay remember?" Santana offers taking a step to help Charlie. She was wearing white, it was an odd choice, but it was clear that Charlie had hurt herself again, judging from the blood stain that was slowly spreading in the fabric. She's about to say something when someone stumbles out from the elevator.

"I found it! My purse, I knew I dropped it. It's super important you know cause it has my phone and no one is going to believe that I got to spend the night with _the_ —" the woman stops and looks at Santana eying her carefully. She was hot, but of course she was _the_ Charlie Fabray only surrounded herself with the _hottest_ women from around the world. Maybe this was a secret girlfriend or something, but it was definitely a story that she could sell to TMZ as well as the sex tape that she had hoped to make. "Wow—what they say about you really is true you do have the prettiest women at your beck and call. I think I know you from somewhere, I can't really place it now though. But you know what I always say the more the merrier. I knew Anita shouldn't have gone home with your brother—"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." Santana interrupts rudely. A trashy blonde, that wouldn't pass Kurt's insane standards? Charlie was probably hopped up on drugs and alcohol and wasn't in the right mind to make any decisions. Especially one of this magnitude. "Thank you for getting her home, now get the hell out. I'll take it from here."

The woman's eyes narrowed immediately, "Excuse me? We really hit it off—"

Santana turned to the woman, she was currently running on fumes but she could at this point make her eyes glow. It's enough to get the woman to immediately stumble back. I don't think I made myself clear. _Fuck off_. Talk to the doorman he'll arrange for a ride home." Santana repeats slowly like she's talking to an idiot.

" _Santana_ —" Charlie slurs taking a step forward only to pitch forward stumbling to the ground. She feels strong arms immediately wrap around her holding her. "She's pretty and I'm—"

" _Drunk_." Santana informs her. And this woman _really_ wasn't that pretty. She wasn't stunning, she wasn't even beautiful by Charlie's standards. "Too drunk to give consent. High on your painkillers as well," Santana mumbled, the pupils in Charlie's eyes were pinpoint and she wasn't going to let anything happen to her. She narrows her eyes at the woman. "Oh her lawyers are going to _enjoy_ ripping your ass a new one and breaking you. So I'm going to give you to delete all the pictures and videos you took, because given how many judges and politicians that she knows, I'm sure Charlie can make your life a living hell. So you'd _better_ hope that she wakes up with a massive hangover and doesn't remember who the hell you are."

Charlie scowls a bit and reaches up with her good arm to touch Santana's face. "You're pretty when you're mad." She pulls on Santana's cheeks and then laughs openly, "You could have had anyone and you chose _her_. She doesn't love you. She hasn't in a long time, bet she told you it was only once—"

Santana studied the woman. "Goodbye, oh and even if you think that there is no way that we'll find you or even remember your face, this place has cameras _everywhere._ It's more secure than Fort Knox and trust me _we will_ find you." Santana informs the woman before picking Charlie up and grabbing the cane before it fell onto the ground. She didn't say anything else as she marched Charlie into her apartment, kicking the door closed behind her and dumping her unceremoniously onto the couch. She didn't know what to make of the revelation, but she knew she didn't want to _hear_ anything, to listen to any secret that could come back and haunt her. She wasn't going to take advantage of Charlie in this state. But she would need to take a look at Charlie's leg she was concerned about the blood. "Alright I'm going to need to take off your pants—"

A slow smirk crossed Charlie's face, "I knew I was irresistible," she laughs at this and puts her hands beside her. "Go ahead."

Santana twitched, "You're lucky that it's night time—" she muttered. It would just be a _tiny_ burn a little one to get Charlie to stop acting like a _dick_. Maybe if she was scared then there would be less words.

"Why? I fixed that for you _years_ ago."

Santana blinked and looked up, from where she was attempting to pull off Charlie's insanely tight pants. "Pretty sure you didn't."

"Did. Thought it was stupid you couldn't work at night."

"Well, I'm not a hero anymore," Santana mumbled grimacing at the blood seeping from the wound. She would probably have to call a doctor or Kurt. Kurt would know what to do. She sighed, she didn't want to be _yelled_ at by Kurt. "No one in the hero community is going to trust me anymore now that I've been seen working for you, my identity it's out there. They think I'm your lackey."

"You are my lackey. But it is okay you get health and dental. And paid vacations."

Santana rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone to call Kurt. She was going to need to give up on sleep tonight. "Kurt?" She asks after her call is picked up on the second ring.

' _Santana—do you have any idea what time it is? If there are bags under my eyes tomorrow, I swear to god—'_

"Look, yeah I _get it_. You need your sleep but your illustrious _leader_ went clubbing tonight and brought someone back to her place—I put a stop to it because she's _plastered_ and probably high on her pain meds. It looked like she was about to be taken—"

' _Charlie doesn't drink_.'

"She smells like alcohol. Plus I think you're going to need to call the doctors because her leg is bleeding—"

' _I'll be there in twenty minutes._ ' Kurt interrupts. _'Keep her alive, and get her some water_. _She sobers up quickly._ '

Santana stared at the line that went dead and looked at Charlie who didn't seem bothered at all that she was bleeding or high as a kite. "Charlie?" Santana asks after a moment. "I'm going to get you some water alright?" When she doesn't get a reply right away, she moves to the kitchen and opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water and moves back to Charlie holding the bottle out for her. "See? Water?"

Charlie tilts her head and rubs her eyes for a moment, squinting at the bottle. "I hate her you know. She took everything from me. Everyone important."

Santana sighed, this was _not_ who she wanted to talk about right now. "You're the one that stopped talking to me—you didn't come to my wedding, you're the one that left and didn't come back."

"She dragged me into the pool, with her powers kept me there. She wanted to make a point. I thought I was going to die. That's why I left. That's why I didn't come back. Now you know."

Santana stared at Charlie for a moment, not quite sure how to handle a revelation. Well it certainly explained things. If this were any other day she'd demand to hear Quinn's side. But she honestly didn't care too. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't be. Just go back home to your wife," Charlie grunts reaching for her cane, it slips out of her shaky hands.

Santana sighs, this wasn't any of Charlie's business, but she needed someone to talk to. "I'm getting a divorce—maybe I could have forgiven the cheating. Quinn swears it was only once but the rest of it? Lying to me about how she got injured, knowing that I would do anything and sinking my career just so she could walk. I just—I'm never going to forgive her and even if I do, I'm always going to resent her. So I think it's better if I just you know divorce her, I hope it's quick and painless, then I'm going back home you know. The city is too expensive and my parents haven't turned my bedroom into an office like they threatened to do. I can't live on your couch forever. Maybe I'll start a small investigation firm and—" she wasn't quite sure what to do. She didn't have the capital and they were still in so much debt, her credit score was literally in the dumps. Most of her money was going back to paying the massive debt that they had accrued.

Charlie raises a brow, and tries to reach for cane again but Santana holds it out of reach. "I have dental and health."

"Yeah but I'm broke, even with your salary most of my paycheck goes to paying off the interest and loans—I can't even afford a sandwich at Prometheus cafeteria. Everything looks so fucking expensive." Charlie laughed at this and Santana glared at her. "Yes, well not all of us can be so fucking rich—"

"Lunch is free if you work at Prometheus, same with snacks and most food. It's supposed to increase productivity. Kurt should have mentioned that. All you needed to do was swipe your ID card."

Santana blinked, she had seen the prices and just assumed. "That little _fucker_."

Charlie snorts in amusement, "My couch is comfortable and I think I need you in case I get attacked again. So be my lackey for now, I'll pay off your half of the debt. And you need to stick by my side until I'm all better."

It's—a fair deal, though it worried her that some of it was predicated on her relationship with Quinn being over. Which it was, and not having to pay off the rest of the massive debt—it sounded like a dream. "You know working for a supervillain was never really what I wanted to do with my life. But I guess evil pays right?"

Charlie shrugged and shook her head, "I'm the villain that's going to make the world a better place and safer for _everyone_." Charlie promises giving up on attempting to get back up and flopping her head on the couch. She glances down for a moment. "Why don't I have pants on?"

The seriousness of the situation is gone and Santana can't help but to laugh out loud hard. She still doesn't trust Charlie, she certainly isn't sure if doing this is the _right_ thing to do but she needs someone in her life that _hadn't_ betrayed her, and yeah Charlie was an ass. She was dangerous, but Charlie hadn't stabbed her in the back and she hadn't ripped her heart from her chest. Maybe having her old friend back was something that she could live with.


	12. Volume 02: Issue 05

Working was something that should have taken her mind off the current clusterfuck that was her life. Unfortunately, given the state of the current world affairs, working only forced her to take a long hard look at her life. All anyone could talk about, all anyone had reported had been the attack on Prometheus. Finn Hudson's ugly mug had been plastered on every television set, every newspaper cover, and every blog. His poorly chosen words would be quoted again and again, and more importantly the _outrage_ was real.

Public approval for superheroes was at an all-time low, dipping lower every day when every interviewed superhero attempted to suggest that this was some elaborate setup by Prometheus—by Charlie to get what she wanted. Normally she would never defend her twin sister, but Charlie wasn't stupid or reckless. Her sister would never have been so heavy handed with this. This wasn't some dastardly plan from Charlie, but as far as she was concerned her twin was the one to blame for this. Her rhetoric had invited challenge, and Finn was the fucking idiot who thought he was helping. He couldn't even do the job correctly, Charlie had been spotted two days later partying it up with somebody at a club.

Then there was the—Santana of it all, she had gotten a call from her mother-in-law to the news that her wife was being dragged away, rather roughly by the detainment unit. Bail for any super was generally set in the millions of dollars range, but Maribel had been concerned about Santana getting put into the general population. She had gone immediately to see if there was anything she could do, to simply talk to Santana, to beg for her forgiveness—but by the time that she had gotten there, ready to make a scene. Santana had been released, her bail had been paid and she was _gone_. There was only one person that she knew that had that money lying around and that was Charlie.

"Quinn, your parents are on the news!"

Quinn glanced up to the televisions that were on the walls of her office and grabbed one of the remotes, she hadn't talked to her parents in a few weeks—though if she was being honest talking to her parents after Finn had crippled her, hadn't exactly been her idea of a good time. Her mother had blamed Santana and she had been too—scared to admit that it was _her_ fault. Yet another one of her many sins. She needed to beg for Santana's forgiveness, they could still make it work. She found the channel and increased the volume so she could hear them.

 _'_ _It's an outrage, my daughter has spent her entire life trying to help people. She's always wanted to make the world a better place. She was making the world a better place, Prometheus doesn't just throw money at problems, they go in and they fix problems. Clean water, new businesses, investing in developing worlds, giving people access to plumbing and clean water. Yet she gets dragged in front of the Senate, or in front of a judge and she needs to defend herself?_ '

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Quinn could feel the twitch in her jaw as she listened to her father continue the propaganda campaign that Prometheus was waging. Charlie hadn't talked to her parents in years, she _knew_ that much to be true, Charlie didn't send cards or gifts for Christmas, she didn't show up at family events. She hadn't even been at the wedding even though her parents had insisted that she be invited. Instead Charlie had timed some sort of expo at the exact same time to show off their new line of tech products. So the question was how much had Charlie _paid_ them?

' _She got attacked, what happened to freedom of speech? Even if you don't like what she says you're free to not buy Prometheus products, but for a superhero to come after her like they did? She made sure that people got out, and she ordered everyone out of the building—went and tried to save as many people as she could. She's someone who doesn't have powers, and she went trying to save as much people as possible—you see it on the damn cameras. She did what she was supposed to do, evacuating the building, and unlike some other CEO who would try and save their own skin she made sure people left via the safest route, and went back to make sure that everyone had gotten out. What I don't understand is that if she's done something illegal or criminal why haven't the police come to arrest her? They don't even have an investigation open on her, because she's not doing anything that's criminal. So what right do superheroes have to harass regular people? This isn't a police state last time I checked.'_

Quinn groans and rubs her eyes and turns off the television not wanting to listen to her parents sell out. She turns back to her computer screen, people didn't _know_ the real Charlie Fabray. Charlie who was ever so careful in hiding who she was, maybe if they knew, maybe if they understood then they wouldn't be so quick to worship her like a god. She glances back at the blank page and then looks at the television, for years she had done everything to avoid her twin. She had made it clear that no one was to ask her about her twin, that hiring her didn't mean _access_ to Charlie. It was because she didn't have access to her sister, but if there was one thing she knew how to do it was get under Charlie's skin.

 **You know her as Charlie Fabray**

Quinn scowled at the title, she would need to think of something better. It would work as a place-holder for now but an expose that would bring Charlie back down to earth definitely needed a better title. She cracks her fingers and tries to think of what she is going to start with when there is a sharp knock on her office window, causing her to look up.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray-Lopez?"

Quinn blinks staring at the flowers that the man is holding, they had to be from Santana. Maybe things were finally looking up for her. "Yeah, that's me."

"Can I see some ID please? Company policy."

Quinn reaches for her purse, and pulls out her driver's license noting that the guy inspects it for a second before handing her the flowers. "Thank—"

"You've just been served Lucy Quinn Fabray," the man interrupted handing her a thick envelope. He immediately turns to leave and pauses squinting at Quinn. "Has anyone ever told you that you look _exactly like_ —"

" _Get. Out."_ It comes out as more of a snarl, than anything but at this point she truly doesn't give a shit. The man scurries away, but there's a smile on his face and she wonders if he enjoys causing people misery. She shakes her head and looks at the envelope, she knows what it is. It can only really be _one_ thing.

She grinds her teeth, trying desperately to hold onto the remaining shards of control she still has over her own emotions. She can't lose control now. Not after everything.

Even though her entire world is falling apart.

~0~

Quinn nurses her drink as she flips through the digital photo album that had commemorated their wedding. Wondering what the hell had happened. Where things had gone wrong in her life that had led to this moment. She traces over their smiling faces and wonders if they were just naive. They had been _so_ happy then.

Hadn't they?

She couldn't even begin to tell when things had begun to fall apart. There was a strong part of her that _wanted_ to—needed to blame it on her twin. Charlie was after all a master at manipulation, and she desperately wanted to believe that her twin had managed to orchestrate this with a few words and perhaps she had. She had never originally planned to tell Santana until Charlie had admitted she knew, the idea that her twin had something on her had caused her to panic. But even though she wanted to lay the blame on Charlie, she couldn't. Charlie hadn't been a part of the equation in _years_.

It had been her actions that pushed Santana into Charlie's arms. She had been the one to demand that Santana make sacrifices for her. The worst part about the whole situation was that she was _certain_ that if Santana had known all the details, that she had cheated and Finn had been the one to break her back, then she would have made the exact same decisions, the exact same sacrifices. Maybe now that they would be on their way to healing, maybe their relationship could be repaired.

Quinn glances at the divorce papers that were just _laying_ on her coffee table, and takes another sip feeling the amber liquid burn on the way down. Santana had been thorough, there was even a settlement attached, that was more than fair. She was getting the house, and the furniture, all Santana had requested was to come get her things, which were also itemized—she'd even pay to get the locks changed, so they didn't have to worry about an exchange of keys.

She had even picked out a time to come and get her stuff, it was during a time that she wasn't even supposed to be in the city. All of this so they wouldn't meet face to face. It was classic Santana, and even though there was a huge part of her that wanted to fight it. She wasn't personally being bank-rolled by a billionaire. This whole thing _reeked_ of Charlie's grubby little fingers. But that didn't mean she was simply going to roll over and sign the damn thing. She would sign the papers, but only after she talked to Santana first, if there was any way to salvage this, if there was a way that they could fix what was broken then she _needed_ to know.

The sudden sound of knocking rouses her from her thoughts, and she glances down at the scotch glass in her hands and quickly puts it down. Ever since Santana had left she had been _alone_. Rachel had called a few times, but she hadn't bothered to pick up. She wheels to the door, hoping and praying that it's Santana. That perhaps that she had a change of heart. She shifts a bit and manages to get the door unlocked with a bit of effort and slowly pulls the door open. Any hope is dashed when she sees Rachel standing there. "I thought I—"

"I know, I _know_. You don't want to see me but I read your op-ed—Quinn what were you thinking? You _outed yourself_ as a superhero. You told the world that you had super powers—and let's not even begin to dissect the fact that Prometheus has _lawyers_. Powerful lawyers—"

"You think I _care_?" Quinn snorts at the thought. She's already lost everything, what does the threat of lawyers and Prometheus matter now? "What else could they take from me?"

"Your _life_ , Quinn. Or your reputation?" Rachel storms past Quinn into the entryway. "There's more people than just _you_ to consider."

"Don't." Quinn hisses. "You don't get to waltz in here and pretend that you care. Not after everything."

Rachel frowns and sighs. She does care. That's the problem. She's tried for years not to care about Quinn's successes and look at where it led them. With Finn making stupid risky decisions and Santana on the verge of divorcing Quinn. "How many more times do I have to say that I'm _sorry_? We had an affair—"

"We slept together _once—"_

Rachel puffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot, she didn't care if it was childish. "It _was_ an affair Quinn, we only slept together once because Finn interrupted the second time. He _hurt_ you—and for that I am sorry, even though it wasn't my fault. But I'm not going to continue apologizing for _falling_ for you."

"Fuck you." Quinn spits. She's tired and sore and a little drunk.

Rachel swallows, Quinn had been like this ever since she had been put in that chair. But things were getting better, she had been happier, and even though Quinn had clearly made her choice to remain with Santana—Rachel was still _happy_ for her. That's all she ever wanted was for Quinn to be _happy_ , but this—this was several steps back. " _You're drunk_ , is that why you wrote the damn op-ed? What were you thinking Quinn?" Rachel sighs taking a step into the house. She reaches down so she can rest her hands on the armrests of Quinn's chair. "You aren't alone Quinn. I'm here—and Santana—Santana will come around, so please don't be sad. Don't be upset—"

"Santana's _gone_. She's gone and she's never coming back." Finally saying the words out causes her mask to finally crumble, and she can feel the raw pain, the anger the cacophony of emotions swirl inside of her as her eyes begin to burn as the tears begin to form. "The—the papers are on the coffee table," she sobs, her voice breaking.

"Quinn—" Rachel begins not knowing what to say and attempting to keep what she was feeling off her face. She didn't want Quinn in _pain_ , that's not what she wanted, she didn't want to see Quinn broken like this, but that didn't mean she wasn't a little bit thrilled that Quinn's relationship with Santana was coming to an end. It meant that maybe there was a chance for them after all.

" _Don't_ that doesn't mean—" Quinn sniffed loudly, as the tears continued to rain down. Crying had always been a bit of a mess ever since her powers had come in. It's why she didn't normally do it. " _It doesn't mean_ anything. I just—maybe if I see her, maybe if I talk to her—I can just—" she gasps for air.

"I _know_ , I know Quinn," Rachel repeats softly kneeling in front of her and pulling Quinn into a hug, ignoring the smell of booze. Quinn was going to regret drinking so much tomorrow, especially with the onslaught that was sure to come from Prometheus's PR department. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Quinn. I never wanted any of this to happen."

"I didn't want this, I just—I don't want to be alone." The pain that she felt, burned and she knew she deserved it. She deserved more than this, for what she had done. As much as she had wanted to believe that it was just a one-night stand Rachel was right it was an affair, she had cheated on her wife and everything—all of this was much deserved. They had made vows, and she had broken them first.

"You aren't, I'm right here and I'm not going to leave," Rachel promises. It was one that she intended to keep because there was no way that she was going to leave Quinn alone like this. "It doesn't seem like it now Quinn, but it will get better. I promise, it'll get better," Rachel hums slowly. She just had a feeling it was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

~O~

There's a knocking at the door and Quinn's pretty sure that if she could muster the ability to open her eyes, she'd be tempted to blast them out of this zip code. "Shut up, I'm coming." She barks, groaning as she blearily pulls her head off her desk and winces at the light that assaults her eyes. She should have definitely called in today, but waking up next to Rachel—after everything that she had been through, it had simply been too much for her. Work was her sanctuary now. She frowns and pulls the door to her office open and lets in the same guy from the other day. "What?"

"Quinn Fabray?"

"This again?" She frowns when the person shoves paperwork at her and spins on her heel.

She's been in the business long enough to know a cease and desist letter just by the smell of bullshit that weighs down the paperwork. She can't say she's _surprised_ that Charlie's minions have gone this far, but it's just another thing for her in the long list of disasters. She skims the words demanding a retraction and rolls her eyes. They've got no claim for defamation, despite what they said because she didn't post anything that she hadn't verified by multiple sources or experienced first-hand. It was Charlie's life story for fuck's sake, the whole thing was practically a matter of public record.

She throws the letter to her desk and blows out a breath of frustration. The only thing she _hadn't_ written about was probably the one thing that still mattered. The reason she never spoke of, that she was sure Charlie still blamed her for.

But she had been a _child_ then. She had _barely_ had control over her powers and after nearly a year of listening to her parents feed into her ego about how she could keep the world safe, she had been practically drunk on the possibility of her future power. She hadn't meant to—

"Quinn! There you are." Her editor slipped into her office, a broad beaming smile on his face as he settled onto her couch and stops her inner musings. "I got a copy of your demand for a retraction."

"Already? I literally got it five seconds ago."

"It was waiting for me." he shrugs carelessly. "Your Op-ed went viral and people are demanding interviews. You're really onto something here. Prometheus's PR team is scrambling to try and avoid letting this turn into a circus. It sounds like they're trying to get an interview with Oprah or Diane Sawyer or whoever will make them seem the most sympathetic."

Quinn feels the tightness in her shoulders lessen as if a great weight is being lifted off her. At least he's not upset. This is just like any other story she's worked on. "Great. I'll start working on a follow up piece."

"Do that." He encourages. "But also start working on your interview questions. If we make enough noise we might be able to force her to do a one-on-one with you. This could be your shot, Quinn. If Kim Kardashian's bare ass can break the internet, I wonder what this will do. This will put us on the _map_."

Quinn froze, "An _interview_? You mean like a telephone interview—"

"Of course not, that's not what people want to see Quinn and you know it. Charlie's not doing any paper interviews until much later, this is her _first_ live interview Quinn since the incident. I plan on 'leaking' this so that we add more fuel to the fire. A letter like this is forcing their hand and playing right into ours. I mean you're probably going to be doing some interviews and we really need to push this narrative. Charlie's been far too close to the anti-hero movement for years. I mean suddenly this makes sense. Though you might get questions about your hero identity, everyone here at the office has your back though. It took a lot of courage in _this_ environment to come out."

Quinn watches as her editor gets up and reaches over to pat her shoulder before walking out. The people _had_ a right to know the _truth_ about her twin, but now as she sat in her office by herself looking at the cease and desist order, she had to wonder what the _fuck_ she had done.


	13. Volume 02: Issue 06

Santana groaned a bit as she turned over, Charlie's couch may have been comfortable but it was still just a couch, and she doubted that using a throw pillow for an actual pillow was any good for her neck. But even with that knowledge she knew she wasn't going to be getting back to sleep any time soon with the sound of typing and the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. "I'm guessing you didn't sleep last night," Santana finally says resisting the urge to simply throw the pillow at her. She knew she should be grateful that Charlie had given her some sheets to use as blankets but having her soon to be ex-sister-in-law as a roommate was weird, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Charlie was Quinn's identical twin.

"Of course not, you and Kurt put me under _house_ arrest."

Santana rolls her eyes. Charlie could have gone anywhere else if she wanted to so long as she was supervised, so bitching about house arrest didn't exactly fill her with sympathy. Even then, she wouldn't have put it past her to simply ignore them and do whatever she wanted anyway. It wouldn't have been the first time. "Kurt put you under house arrest to keep you from doing anything stupid. Apparently going out when you're on copious medication and getting drunk with some dude with a questionable haircut, and bringing someone home without running it through Kurt makes you look like an idiot. She didn't even sign a nondisclosure." Santana pauses for a moment. "You get women to sign non-disclosures before they sleep with you?"

"Of course not." Charlie scoffed. She personally didn't care, there had never been any complaints as far as she was concerned. "Kurt does. I'm rich enough that I have people to manage my personal life so I don't have to. All things considered you should probably look into investing into your own Kurt. Or get a life coach. I have no idea what they do, but it seems like something that you might benefit from. Maybe you'll stop sleeping on my couch, and find your own place."

This time Santana doesn't hesitate to take the throw pillow and launch it at Charlie's head. The reaction time as Charlie swats the pillow away with her broken arm, catches Santana by surprise, especially from someone who as far as she could tell didn't sleep. "I thought you broke your wrist, it's been like a week and a half, and shouldn't that hurt like a bitch?"

"Because I would be caught dead using a regular old cast." Charlie scoffed at the question. "No, this was created by Prometheus scientists, honestly, I should give the lot of them a bonus. It's cut the healing time in half. I don't even really need the cane anymore. I'm keeping it though. I have a few ideas, to make it more— _functional_. I don't like getting caught with my pants down." If all else failed she'd have a pretty hefty bat to smack someone in the face with.

Santana rolled out of her makeshift bed and headed towards the fridge, "I've caught you with your pants down."

"Don't complain, you liked what you saw." Charlie retorts, before going back to work. "It's okay many women liked what they saw."

"I _married_ that ass, so it's not like it's anything new."

"Not anything—" She sputters in disbelief. "You married my _twin's_ ass. Trust me, the diet and exercise that I put in makes my ass perfect. It's considerably better than Quinn's ass. Also stop comparing my ass to my sister's it's weird."

Santana frowns as she reaches for a plain white mug, "I didn't actually compare your ass to Quinn's. You compared your own ass to Quinn's."

Charlie opens her mouth to argue but can't fault Santana's logic. "My ass is _still_ better."

"Whatever you say." Santana rolls her eyes. She's not going to continue getting sucked into this odd conversation about Charlie's ass. She didn't even want to think about it _that_ way. She was trying _not_ to think about her ex-wife. "So, what have you been working on? I mean this insomnia has to have been fruitful right?"

Charlie tears her attention away from the computer for a moment and studies Santana. "I—"

"Look, I get it I'm smart but not like super genius smart so can you just explain it like you're talking to the public," Santana interrupts. She knows Charlie, or she did know Charlie well enough that asking for an explanation might end up being a six hour lecture about string theory.

Charlie rolled her eyes, "It was fruitful, but I would honestly be more effective and more productive if I got to work in my lab. As for what I'm working on? Defensive prototypes against supers, it's non-lethal of course. Just something that would disable an enhanced being long enough for the proper authorities to arrive. Also I finished several other projects I've been working on."

Santana brought the steaming cup of coffee to her lips and sipped on it, "You do realize that _I'm_ an enhanced person right? That because of this law that you're trying to pass I can never be a superhero again. I mean—it was what I always wanted when I was a kid it's what _you_ always wanted."

"People grow up and they learn to deal with disappointments. I didn't get some cool flashy power, instead I became the smartest person in the world. You know how lonely it is at the top? No of course not, I can't have a _proper_ conversation with anyone except Brittany. I have to always watch myself, I have to simplify everything I say into simple sound bites, so that people can understand what goes on in my mind. I can't sleep because my mind is always thinking, always calculating probabilities, working on equations and formulating plans. That's why I fuck around, because I need to flood my brain with hormones and exhaust my body to the point where I can finally shut my mind off to get that sleep, because it's the only thing that's slowing my descent into madness. You think this is the life I want for myself? This? Being alone? Knowing that one day, I might not be able to come out of my own mind to interact with people." Charlie spits out angrily. "But you're upset because you don't get to run around in your underwear with a cape anymore causing massive destruction to a city you claim you want to protect?"

"And what's to stop _you_?" Santana holds up her hand to stop the argument she can see coming from a mile away. "I'm not advocating for morons like Finnocence that want to come in and blow up your building just because he thinks he's the best thing to happen to justice since sliced bread. But let's say you go bat-shit crazy and want to take over the world and destroy it, what's going to stop them? The regular police department can't handle enhanced people. They _can't_ , and you know it and I know it and even with all this gear that you're probably going to make and sell for a pretty penny but that's not going to stop someone like me and you know it."

Charlie sighed and closed her laptop, so she could shift to look at Santana directly. "I think you misunderstand what I want Santana. I don't want _vigilantes_ in the street, sure you have insurance for 'accidents' but that doesn't make you personally responsible for any of the damage you do. What I want is for enhanced people to be trained. I want them to go through rigorous psychological and intelligent testing so we have the best and the brightest. I want there to be procedures set in place, so that no one thinks that it's a good idea to get into an enhanced brawl in a public area during rush-hour. I want there to be _an_ age limit, because stupid teenagers are trying to become heroes and they're doing more harm than good. I want civilian oversight."

"The hero league would kill me for saying this, but I _don't_ disagree with you. A lot of times, heroes bust in and punch first and ask questions later. But what _you're_ talking about—having a registration system that houses the names, identities, and weaknesses of all the heroes in the nation—how is a super ever supposed to trust that someone like you won't hack the system?"

"Well, I personally don't think that there is a need for people in masks anymore. You're want to be an officer of the law Santana, will there be some villains that target you? Of course, but this isn't a real problem and if there is a problem, it'll be like lawyers, or judges or police officers who get threatened. Protective details around your family members. You make it seem like unenhanced people haven't gone through this before. That something makes you a bit more special, just because you have powers."

Santana blinked and opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. Charlie was right, in her own way. Prometheus was just another example in the long trail of destruction that showed what a problem this had become. "So what's the plan for today?"

If Charlie notices the change in subject, she mercifully doesn't comment on it. "I need to make a public appearance somewhere, the world needs to know that I'm not cowering in my penthouse apartment. They need to see strength. It should be the temporary offices while Prometheus headquarters is getting repaired, I think it will help morale if my employees see that I'm nowhere close to dying. I'll probably say a few words to them, let them know that I appreciate all their hard work, and I promise to do better by them. I promise to keep them safer. Then I'm going to pointedly ignore Kurt and I'm going to one of my private labs to tinker a bit. You?"

Santana scratches her nose. She's been trying to gear herself up for this all morning. "I probably have to check in with Sebastian."

"Why?" Charlie curls her lip in disgust. She tries to avoid Sebastian like the plague. It wasn't that she didn't like him, he was just a dick who she was all too happy to leave to his own devices. Why anyone would willingly seek him out was beyond her.

"To check on my divorce." Santana looked at Charlie skeptically. Did she _forget_ the entire reason that Santana was couch surfing?

"Oh." Charlie nods. "Yes, well Sebastian is good at what he does I imagine. It made sense to hire him at the time. Though we didn't agree on many things," Charlie shrugged again. "I know many people in the company come to him to get their divorces done. It's a benefit of working with Prometheus. We're the only company with a set of divorce lawyers on staff. Truthfully I think Prometheus overpays him, but I'm not the head of human resources."

Santana shook her head, "Do you mind if I shower now? We can head out a bit early before Kurt freaks out that we're being lazy. And if you want to know who Prometheus overpays? You might want to check out Kurt's paystub."

Charlie scowls. "The board approved his hazard pay a couple of years ago." She scoffs at the memory. She's _never_ been that bad. "I think they pay him hush money too. I don't know why, I refused to sign anything with a morality clause attached."

"Because you're a supervillain?"

Charlie stuck out her tongue. "Go shower because you smell."

"At least I'm not a supervillain." It was a weak retort and she knew it, but it didn't stop Charlie's lips from twitching upward or a split second.

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. You're sleeping on this supervillain's couch. So what does that say about you?" Charlie's retorts with a roll of her eyes.

~O~

If there was one thing that Santana had to admit that she was impressed with, is how quickly Prometheus seemed to be up and running again. Though from what she understood, the server room had remained relatively untouched and since Prometheus was mostly digital, it hadn't taken long to get everything and everyone set up in the temporary headquarters. But people were still relatively disorganized, at least judging from the bustle going around the office. "I'm here for Sebastian—"

"This isn't a _fucking office_ it's a closet. Do you think this is funny? Putting the gay man in the closet? I'm going to—"

The secretary sighed and pointed at Sebastian, "There he is. Are you sure you want to talk to him? He went on vacation while we were moving into the temporary offices, which meant that he missed getting his pick of the offices. At least he gets his own space, a lot of people are sharing office space. But we've got to make do you know?"

"I do," Santana nods, she was still sharing a desk with Kurt, who basically forced her into this little corner despite how big the desk was. Maybe with the rebuild she'd be able to get her own desk. She's about to say something else when Sebastian storms by. "Uh—Sebastian, we were supposed to meet today to go over my divorce—?"

Sebastian's head whips around towards the voice, about to rip into them. He stops for a moment and squints at Santana for a second, "You're the one that's divorcing the boss's sister aren't you?"

Santana can practically feel everyone looking at her. Her face flushes but she stares him down, "Isn't there supposed to be some attorney-client privilege thing?"

Sebastian glares at the others on his floor. " _See_? I have _actual clients_. So fuck the rest of you—I'm taking the conference room."

She's not quite sure what she's supposed to do, but follows him as he storms toward a large conference room and slams the glass door behind him.

"Fuck them, thinking they can trick me into working in the closet. I've had _bathroom_ stalls that were bigger than that so-called office." He mutters, pulling up his tablet to access his secure files to remind himself of this case's status. Normally he did all the prep work ahead of time, but he had been too distracted by the stupid fuckery of the new office. "Right. So, your soon-to-be ex-wife is representing herself—are you sure you don't want to skin her alive? It seems like a waste of a good fight to just _settle_."

"I just want this to be over."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Fine. Whatever." He flipped through the records and court documents. "Well Quinn is only asking for one thing, she wants the cure."

"Of course, she does." Santana scoffs. She should have seen that coming from a mile away. "There is no cure, and I don't think that Charlie is going to finish it. If she wants the cure then she can sell her soul to Charlie herself, I'm not doing that anymore."

"I'm not going to comment on the fact that you're being paid to do nothing, because that would be hypocritical of me." Sebastian retorts before flicking through his tablet. "Also, she'd like a face to face—"

"No. You can meet with her, but I'm not going to. I don't think I can."

"Funny since you're living with your ex-wife's identical twin sister. By the way, what's the story there? I mean clearly, they hate each other, anyone who read the op-ed could tell you that. But I mean it can't _just_ be because Quinn's enhanced, can it? I mean it was pretty brave of her to come out, but there has to be another side to that story, right? Is it because the two of you are _you_ know—? I mean I wouldn't blame you, fabulously wealthy, smart, charismatic, and apparently—from what I hear—she's amazing in the—"

"She _what_?" Santana feels her jaw drop and asks the first question that comes to mind. "When?"

"It's all anyone anywhere can talk about. Where the hell have you been? Wait—Charlie doesn't know?" Sebastian lets out a wolf whistle and a smirk crosses his face. "Well someone is going to lose their job today, who knows I might get myself a full office after all."

"Show me?"

He shrugs and texts her a link. "I definitely don't want to be the one to tell her."

"So, you're just another member in the Cult of Charlie?" Santana scoffs, pulling up the link as quickly as her phone will let her. Everyone in this damn place was the same way. It was as if everything Charlie touched turned to gold.

Sebastian shrugs, "There isn't a cult, she's the CEO of a company worth billions of dollars, and she knows my name. People say that she's constantly thinking, that she's so far above us normal folk and yet when I was in an elevator with her she _knew_ my name. We've never even met before and she asked me how my dad was doing because he'd been in the hospital. Promised that he'd get the very best care available, because family was important at Prometheus. I mean she's fucking you isn't she?"

Santana tears her eyes off the small screen, she scrunches up her face slightly. "Look. I'm living on her couch. We're not together, we're not fucking, and we're not anything. I'm her bodyguard, which means I'm an over glorified babysitter—"

"So you're basically living in her house for free, not paying rent in _this_ city, and you're _not_ fucking. Wow. Such a villain. You probably aren't even grateful. Maybe I'm reading too much into that op-ed, and maybe Charlie's doing this to _fuck_ with her twin sister but she could have dumped you in a hotel room. She could certainly afford it. If I could, I wouldn't let anyone in my personal space or let anyone sleep on my couch for that long. Especially given the fact that I know that she has multiple properties."

Santana ignored him. She was so _tired_ of hearing from the peanut gallery about Saint Charlie. Instead, she focuses on the long op-ed in front of her. Quinn had always said that she wasn't going to use Charlie's name and influence to get ahead. But here she was doing just that and in the worst possible way, Charlie wouldn't be able to let this go. "What the _fuck_ is she thinking going public like this? I didn't have a choice in coming out, but she did. God fucking dammit Quinn. Does she know how many people are going to come after her now?"

"A fuckton. As your divorce lawyer, it's my job to tell you that what she does is no longer your concern—"

The door slams open more loudly than it had when Sebastian had thrown his tantrum earlier and Charlie strides in with Kurt slinking in behind her. "Get your shit, we're leaving."

Santana arches her brow. "I thought—"

"Yeah well I'm not in the mood to deal with any more incompetence today. So we're going home."

"Ma'am—" Kurt tries and Santana is pretty sure he has a death wish with the way Charlie snaps back around at him.

"I want to know how the _fuck_ you allowed this to happen, and don't give me any shit. I have an entire PR division that should have caught this before a word was ever uploaded online. I don't ask for perfection, I ask for _excellence_ and I'll be damned if I accept anything less."

"It's not—"

"Watch it, Kurt. You kept this from me and I should fire you because of that." Charlie sneers and turns to focus on Sebastian. "Sebastian, you will break her over your knee. I don't care if her back is broken, I want you to break her. I don't care how you do it, the two of them were in debt up to their eyeballs. Bring back indentured servitude if you must—"

"No." Santana interrupts, one look at the article and she knew it was going to be this _thing_. Some family drama, and as angry as she was at Quinn. As painfully irritated as she was with her ex-wife, hurt by her actions, she didn't want Charlie to bring the full force of her hammer down on Quinn. "That's not what I want. I don't want this to drag on for years. I want this to be over. So don't make this about you. This isn't about _you_."

Charlie frowns and she can practically feel Kurt about to say something, Sebastian is watching the drama unfold with glee. "You're right this isn't about me. This is about _you_. This has always been about you." Charlie turns to Kurt. "The _idiot,_ and I do mean _idiot_ that thought that it was a good idea to ask for a cease and desist order, you're going to fire them. You're going to hand them, and whoever is in charge, their walking papers. Do I make myself clear?"

Kurt nods flicking his eyes to Sebastian once before immediately looking at his tablet. His cheeks a bright red, being humiliated in front of his rival like this was excruciatingly painful. "Yes ma'am."

"If I can make a suggestion," Sebastian offers speaking up. "Whatever your original media return schedule was, I think you should keep it, but you're going to need to face your sister. On _your_ terms."

"Are you out of your mind? I—"

"Quinn is the equivalent of a terrorist right now, one that comes off sounding pretty bitter and angry. But whether you like it or not people are listening to her, people are _talking_ about her. So go on your media blitz, and then when people ask you about it. You can tell your side of the story whatever that is. I assume you have a reason to hate your sister other than she got powers and you didn't?" Sebastian interrupts giving a pointed look at Kurt.

Santana turns to look at Charlie, "Charlie—look this will blow over. You don't need to destroy Quinn's life to make a point. I know you're thinking of it. Don't you think she's lost enough? She can't walk, we're getting a divorce—"

"Everyone thinks that it would be best to nip this in the bud and face her head on. With the twenty-four hour news cycle being what it is, you could get away with it, but the fact is Quinn's story has moved the pulse back a bit. She might not be doing it intentionally but she's become the face of the superhero movement. I think the belief is that she lost the use of her legs saving someone. She's become a sympathetic figure." Kurt sighs, hating that for once Sebastian is going to be right. He's been in these briefings over the last week and it's the only thing everyone can agree on.

"I want her _destroyed_."

"And what better way than to show that you don't _need_ her?" Santana insists. She may be hurt and realize that her marriage is dead and over, but years of being together didn't evaporate overnight. "She broke her back because a jealous super realized his wife was cheating on him. She's asking for the cure that only you can figure out. So give it to her and be _done_. _You're_ the sympathetic figure, not her."

Charlie frowned narrowing her eyes at Santana, this was the first time anyone had mentioned giving her the cure. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Santana meets Charlie's harsh searching gaze and swallows, "I'm not trying to trick you Charlie. I'm never ever getting back with your twin. Look, Quinn broke whatever rules you two had when it came to dealing with each other and yeah maybe it's because I'm living on your couch. But she wants to walk again—something that at this point you're probably the only one on the planet who could help her. _Use that_."

Kurt sighed, years of working with Brittany to keep Charlie's rage from spilling out against her twin and now this situation had gotten so out of hand, so quickly, and there was very little he could do about it. They were stuck managing the situation instead of getting ahead of it. "May I make a suggestion?"

"No." Charlie snapped. "I think you've done enough Kurt."

Kurt winced, and nodded, right now he had obviously fallen out of favor. "Of course, but we do need a plan ma'am—"

"The plan is this, I'm going to go to my lab, I am going to lock myself in my lab for a week, and then at the end of the week I am going to do an interview with my sister. There is nothing more important to me then ending this stupid vigilante program. I will play Quinn's stupid little game, but at the end of it, I'm going to crush her under the heel of my boot."

The temperature in the room raised and from the corner of her eye she could see Sebastian backing off. "Charlie—"

"Did you read the op-ed? Yes you did, and it's convenient that Quinn gets to tell her side of the story, and make herself look like the hero. Did you know that the reason I stopped coming back home was because she nearly _drowned_ me in the damn pool? You think that petty jealousy is the reason I fucking hate her? God I could have forgiven that, I was getting there before she _took the_ only person that mattered to me away—"

"I'm right here." Santana insists immediately.

Charlie sneered at this and brushed Kurt off as he attempted to pull her back. "You think I'm talking about you? Both you and Quinn lorded it over me that I didn't have powers, and back when I was that age, having powers _mattered_. I didn't want to be left behind. But I was content in being your _tech_ person. I was fine to be your support, to prop you and Quinn up. Yeah I had a crush on you but you chose Quinn. Sure maybe I tried to impress you. You know my first patent, was that damn fabric I made for you? Did you know that? Of course not you were just happy that your parents didn't have to be paying a fortune in clothes anymore. Do you know how many items I've made to help both you and Quinn, things that you can get on the market now? No. You don't. But I'm the fucking supervillain—"

"Ma'am—fuck _Charlie,"_ Kurt snapped this was not going well, though bottling it up had never been healthy, but he had made the assumption that she was _finally_ moving on. When Charlie turns on him he stares at her calmly. "Your lab has been fully restocked, it's just waiting for you. I'll have your driver take you."

Charlie studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine." With that she turns on her heels and storms out.

Kurt nods and steps out of Charlie's way, building things generally calmed her down enough, he'd have to make sure to check in with her. The last thing he needed was a death ray being built on his watch. It was probably best to get Brittany to sit down and have a talk with her. He waits until she's in the elevator before turning to Santana. "A suggestion, until you _know_ until she trusts you enough to know, keep your mouth shut and stay out of it. I don't care if you still _love_ her, don't get into it till you know the whole story."

"I don't need to know the full story to know that this little family feud doesn't make either of them look good. This is like a bad episode of Jerry Springer and it needs to end." Santana says with a shake of her head, trying to shake her feelings of guilt. She was surprised there was actually _a lot_ going on that she didn't know and that she needed to know. She bites her lip for a moment before deciding to take off after Charlie, who was still waiting for the elevator.

"I don't want to hear it." Charlie holds up her hand in an attempt to stop whatever apology Santana feels urged to make. "You're sorry, I get it—"

"I'm _not_ sorry." Santana folds her arms over her chest. "I get it, I've screwed up a lot. There's a lot I don't know and I should probably think before making assumptions. But I'm not the same kid that you abandoned either. You grew up. I know. But so did I. So why don't you get your head out of your ass and let me help you?"

Charlie's jaw drops. She's not used to people standing up to her. She's not sure that she likes it. "And what help do you _possibly_ think you can give me?"

Santana shrugs. It had never really stopped her before. "I'm sure you'll think of something. And just for your information, I _did_ know that your first patent was my fabric. I still tell anyone who would listen that you made that fabric for _me_. Do you have any idea how many lives that's saved? Not just by making my life better so that I didn't flash the goods every time I flamed up, but shit Charlie, they have woven your prototype into every fire retardant material necessary. You're a _hero_ and while the world of supers might think you're a villain, you know what I think?"

"What?" Charlie tried to hide her amusement. It annoyed her that Santana could still manage to get under her skin. She was like a bad rash that just wouldn't go away.

"I say fuck them. Fuck Quinn and anybody else who wants to force you into some battle for the moral high ground. Finn came in and _destroyed_ Prometheus. Quinn _cheated_. None of them have the moral high ground."

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "I didn't abandon you, I never abandoned you."

"Yeah, well I might not have said thank you then, but I was grateful."


	14. Volume 02: Issue 07

Charlie cracked her neck as she pushed her way through the large oak doors that been shut during the entire duration of this ' _secret_ ' hearing. Though she knew the moment that she left the building she would be swarmed by reporters. Someone had leaked it to the press who had been there trying to get her to say a few words. The world wasn't used to her ignoring the media like this. She exhales as she flips her new cane in the air and catching it. It _definitely_ makes her fit into the evil super villain club, especially the sound of the metal cane hitting the tiles. All she needs is a monocle, or maybe an eye-patch. She keeps walking past Santana, thinking for a second that she just might be able to slip past her. These past few days had been _odd_ between them it was like Santana was attempting to be her friend or something equally as ridiculous. Personally she was sure Santana thought she was on some dangerous edge into becoming a supervillain.

"How'd it go?" Santana asks, sliding up beside her. Apparently no matter how much Santana hated working for her, she's still right there by her side.

"As well as you can expect I imagine," Charlie responds reaching up to fix her collar and then her cuffs, pulling out a pair of dark aviator glasses. "I've been to hundreds of these things and it's always been the same thing. Far too much politics, ignoring scientific consensus. You know one of the members of congress tried to question my credentials once."

Santana glanced at Charlie, Kurt was generally by her side during these meetings but he had fallen out of favor, much to his annoyance. Charlie was going about her business without consulting him. "Really? How badly did you roast him?"

Charlie shrugged, "I didn't. I just smiled and moved on trying to get my point across. I did however make sure that he had _zero_ support when it came time for reelection. No one wanted to work with him, all his staffers quit, a few of his questionable activities were leaked to the media. An FBI investigation led to an indictment, and he's currently still in prison for corruption charges."

Santana's jaw dropped, and she nearly tripped as she turned to look at Charlie. It was the general callousness and the ease that Charlie had expressed that caught her off guard. After half a second, she shook her head. "And you say you're not a villain." She nudged Charlie lightly to show she was only joking.

"Toeing the line of moral ambiguity makes for a better story anyway." Charlie responded with ease stopping in front of the exit. "Well, time to earn your paycheck. Try not to smack anyone in the face."

Santana blinked and rolled her eyes before pushing open the door for Charlie, she had thought Charlie had looked stupid in the glasses but she suddenly understands why she's wearing them as the light's from various camera's begin to flash. "Easy for you to say," Santana grumbles spotting a limo parked on the street. Kurt was waving at her and she sighs, it seemed a long way to the car. She immediately moves following Charlie who was walking down the steps ignoring the media. She shifts and begins to immediately push some of the media away so Charlie could walk down, at least it was something.

The questions pepper them as Santana pushes through with Charlie following protectively. "Ms. Fabray—"

 _"_ _What was the meeting about?"_

 _"_ _Is it true that Prometheus is already back to work?"_

 _"_ _How are you healing?"_

 _"_ _Are your injuries just a PR stunt?"_

 _"_ _Is it true that this entire registration is just some vendetta because you're jealous?"_

Charlie stops walking and even though she can feel Santana tugging on her arm she turns to the reporter and points to him with her cane. "What did you say?"

The area goes deathly silent, as the reporter who spoke up steps forward a bit, "Is it true that this entire registration is just some vendetta because you're jealous?"

Charlie smiles at the reporter and shifts her cane in her hand for a bit, debating whether if she should practice her swing using his face as a ball, but that would probably be a _terrible_ idea. She taps her fingers on the top of her cane, "If I were a super, I might have hit you first and apologized later, but no. It's not because I'm jealous."

"Ma'am, we've got—" Kurt stressed from where he was standing looking at Santana.

"Yes, I know. We've got places to be. But I want to make it absolutely clear, that it's irresponsible journalism to push that narrative. Not only because it isn't true, but because it dismisses the problem at hand. What _should_ matter to people is that our citizens are safe, that we _hold_ all super's accountable just like we hold our police departments. The days of vigilantism are _over_ , the days of hiding your face are _over_. There needs to be rules and regulations and more importantly every enhanced person who wants to be a hero _needs_ to be trained. No more brawls on Main Street. We need to start minimizing civilian casualties, not to mention the billions of dollar of property damage each year that eats into the budget. That money should be going to your children's education, better healthcare, better roads and what have you. Now if you'll excuse me, as my assistant is about to have a coronary, it's time for me to go."

 _"_ _Charlie—"_

 _"_ _Ms. Fabray, what about—"_

"No more questions." Santana looks at the reporters pointedly and practically shoves Charlie in the car.

"Was that necessary?" Charlie asks with an irritated sniff as Santana entered the car.

"Yes," Kurt jumps in immediately, it forces Charlie to look at him but it's only for a second before she's looking out the window again. He still hadn't managed to get himself back in her good graces. "Ma'am, I understand that you wish to do an interview with Quinn on your terms, but the current PR department thinks that will only add fuel to the fire—"

"What I know, is that people are still questioning me about that stupid op-ed piece. What I _understand_ is that they _haven't_ let this go Kurt. What I also know is that since I haven't had any sort of response, _Quinn_ is the only person pumping out new information and I will be damned if she lets anyone else get hurt with her 'noble intentions'."

"The house is moving forward with your recommendations—as far as anyone is concerned you won. I'm asking you not to roll around in the mud with your sister, because even if you come out the winner, you're still covered in mud. Something—anything she says might stick," Kurt argues. "You still have aspirations for the White House."

"You really do want to take over the world don't you?" Santana asks turning to Charlie.

"Well, for at least four years. It's probably a good thing that they introduced term limits," Charlie taps the top of her cane again. "But, I need this to be over. So after we get back to the city, I want you to book a ride to the cesspit that is Quinn's company."

Santana cringed. She knew that _eventually_ she would probably tag along for Charlie's interview with Quinn. But really, she had been intending to call in sick that day. "Are you sure you don't want Kurt to do it? I—"

"I'd be happy to schedule that—" Kurt jumped in.

Charlie glares at them both, effectively cutting Kurt off. "I know you don't want to see her, but I need to throw her off her game."

"So you're using me." Santana surmises. She's not sure if that makes it better or worse, but she'd really prefer to never see Quinn again.

Charlie shrugs. It's what good leaders do, and she'd be a fool not to use every weapon at her disposal. "You don't have to say anything to her. But I would feel more comfortable with you there, I'd rather not have Quinn attempting to murder me. You're my bodyguard so it's your job to _guard_ my body."

Santana frowns, she _hated it_ when Charlie had a point. There was a very good chance this meeting would end in violence just like any other episode of Jerry Springer and she wasn't going to let that happen. "I never signed up to babysit the two of you. I'm going to request hazard pay for this."

Charlie rolled her eyes, of course Santana would ask for hazard pay. "Whatever."

"Also, because you're dying to use it on somebody I'm going to have to confiscate your 'pimp' cane." Santana adds after a moment.

"Her pimp cane?" Charlie could not _publically_ call her cane that, it would be a PR nightmare that made this look like a cake walk. Especially given Charlie's reputation when it came to women.

"Brittany stopped by the lab and decided to name it." Santana explains with a shake of her head. "She weaponized it, and I don't know exactly what she did to it. But better to be safe than sorry."

"Fine, _whatever_." They were worse than—she would say her parents but that didn't quite seem right. Her parents simply hadn't cared whether she played with weapons of mass destruction or not. They certainly wouldn't blink at this cane.

~O~

Quinn poked at her lunch half-heartedly as she looks over her next op-ed. The fallout from her first article had been astounding and she had every intention of riding the popularity into her next article. Everything she did from here on out had to be flawless because it was only a matter of time before Charlie made her next move.

Which wasn't to say that her twin hadn't made moves, every public appearance that Charlie had made recently had pushed the media into a frenzy. Everyone wanted a response, everyone needed to hear from her. But each public appearance, every single time Charlie stepped out there was a clear message. Because it would only be a few moments before she got a glimpse of her ex-wife. Charlie was _taunting_ her. And the worst part about it was that Santana either didn't _get it,_ or she was a willing participant.

Quinn sighs inwardly and is about to take a bite out of her sandwich when the door to her office bursts open and she drops the sandwich in surprise, " _Shit_ —haven't you ever heard of—" She swallows when she notices her boss gasping for air.

" _She's here_. We've got an hour, just an hour. I've already put the tech guys to work getting the conference room tidy, if we hurry that's a good half an hour interview." He gasped looking at Quinn. "You—god dammit I need to get to the gym—you need to get ready. Hair and makeup, you need to go now."

"She?" Quinn presses, even though she knows the answer to that question. It was just like Charlie to show up unannounced and start making demands. Though she was a tiny bit impressed at how easily Charlie had turned the tide. She wasn't mentally prepared for an interview, and they couldn't tell Charlie to come back later because her twin simply wouldn't come back and she would easily change the narrative.

"Your twin—god damn was she imposing. Look please tell me you're ready for this interview. It's the interview of your life, other reporters would kill for this opportunity. So trust me when I say that this could make or break your career Quinn, and judging from the look on her face, she wants to _break_ you. So you've got to be able to hold your own."

Quinn winced, she most definitely _wasn't ready_ for this interview, "I am." She lies, as she wheels herself around her desk. She wasn't that unprepared, she had questions of course and more importantly she knew how to get under Charlie's skin, but at the same time she wasn't mentally prepared to defend against Charlie's attempts to get under her skin. She had been spending nearly every waking moment thinking about her ex-wife and attempting to contact her. She's not going to let Charlie throw her off her game. She's sure that's what Charlie's intent was and she's just not going to let it happen.

~O~

Charlie frowned slightly as she crossed her legs and read through her messages. It was information that she had wanted of course, but she hadn't expected the House to come back with a decision so quickly. "Has it been sixty minutes?" Charlie asked not looking up.

Santana sighed, she had never thought that she would be missing Kurt, but right now she missed him with his stupid tablet and his 'holier than thou' attitude. "It's been twenty, and when are you going to forgive him Charlie? I mean it's been a week, and I think he misses you."

"Kurt, has gotten a bit too full of himself as of late. He's an integral part of my job and for the most part I trust his opinion on many things. He _fucked up_ , and he needs a reminder that he's not the CEO, he doesn't get to make decisions like this without informing me first. I'm more irritated that he _hid_ it from me, then I am that it ended up blowing up in his face. I shouldn't have to be here defending myself against Quinn, and if we had simply ignored Quinn's op-ed originally then it wouldn't have blown up nearly as much as this."

Santana shook her head, she personally didn't care, "Just tell me you'll forgive him soon."

"I'll think about it." Charlie allows tilting her head as the door as the conference room opens. It's a bustle of movement as they start setting up but none of that matters as Quinn slowly enters the room, waiting for someone to hold the door open for her. Their eyes lock for a moment before she leans back in her chair and waves at her sister. She follows Quinn's shocked gaze as it locks onto Santana and sighs. "If you want to waste your time trying to talk to Santana, be my guest but don't forget that your clock is ticking."

"Santana—"

"She's here as my bodyguard, nothing else." Charlie waves her hand in dismissal.

Quinn's eyes narrow. "She's _here_ to throw me off and don't think I'm stupid enough to miss what you're trying to do."

"Don't worry, Lucy. I'm sure there's no way that I can underestimate how stupid you are." Charlie sneers despite the fact that there were witnesses. "It's quite a shame that I can't sue you for libel." Charlie pauses for a moment. And turns half-expecting Kurt to be there to let her know that she could sue Quinn for libel. He wasn't. She probably wouldn't remember to ask him later either.

Quinn bites back a retort, she needed to get this on camera and more importantly she _needed_ to be seen as a professional. She needed to make Charlie seem like she was the petty childish one and anyone with eyes could see it. She could even see a few sympathetic looks from the crew. She glances at Santana frowning when she can't even meet her in the eye. "The least you owe me—"

"She doesn't quite owe you anything _Lucy_ , in fact from what I gather she's being more than generous in the divorce proceedings. Certainly far more forgiving than I would be given the circumstances."

Quinn grits her teeth when Santana looks away without a word and shifts in her seat. If a brawl is what Charlie wants, then that is what she's going to do. "Alright, well we're just going to set up here real quick and we'll go live in about five minutes."

"Excellent, Oprah and I were going to have lunch and discuss a documentary." Charlie comments before looking back at her phone. "She was very disappointed that I wasn't giving her this interview, so I informed her that we could do a docu-series, or something. I've always wanted Morgan Freeman to narrate my life, maybe I can have both Morgan Freeman and Oprah—what do you think Santana?"

"Morgan Freeman sounds good." Santana agrees distractedly.

Charlie hums, "I wonder how I'm going to have you portrayed Quinn? As a bully? As cheater? A murderer?" It's the last word that forces everyone in the room to look at her, some in shock others in disbelief. She smiles earnestly, though it doesn't quite meet her eyes.

" _Murderer_?" Quinn scoffs. She may be a lot of things but she's never taken a life. "Is this still about when we were kids? I was a _child_ coming into my powers, and _yeah_ I made a mistake." She nods to the cameraman, hoping that she's getting this all on tape.

Charlie's eyes turn cold. It wasn't some childish prank that got out of hand and Quinn _didn't_ lose control. But that was years ago and maybe if that had been the only harm Quinn had ever cased her they could find some way toward forgiveness. She flicks her eyes to the camera, and it's only then that she realizes that they're rolling. Quinn hadn't given her any indication and there hadn't been a proper intro. This was a hatchet job and she wasn't going to get sucked in. "No, Lucy, this isn't about when we were kids. I do hope you're not going to spend our entire time trying to hash out old grievances."

That knocks the wind out of Quinn's sails. She had been expecting Charlie to come armed with stories of her misspent youth. But if this isn't the angle that Charlie's going for, then Quinn is going to have to re-think her approach. Since she doesn't have time to do that completely, she's just going to have to attack this with the most straight-forward approach possible. "What would you say to those in the superhero community that fear your attempt to disarm them is a personal attack and an attempt to cripple their work for the cities they protect?"

"I would say that we should be more concerned with the average American instead of worrying about hurting enhanced humans' feelings." Charlie retorts.

"But even _you_ can acknowledge that you have a personal vendetta against superheroes." Quinn notes. She's not going to let Charlie weasel out of the point. But there's something about the confident smirk that her twin wears that makes her a little cautious.

"I have a _vendetta_ against anyone who thinks that they can go outside the justice system that everyone else is required to follow and make their own rules. I have nothing against enhanced humans, like my bodyguard here, nor do I have anything against average humans. But it's about time that we take away the concept of vigilante justice and equip our society to protect itself."

"So of the myriad problems that our society bears, the _only_ issue you concern yourself with is the hero registration act? Poverty, health care, military spending, all of them pale in comparison in your mind to registering each superhero along with their name, identity, and personal information?"

"Prometheus is working on fixing all those issues, and to answer your question? Yes. I think the time of hiding behind masks is over. When a police officer walks down the street, for the most part we can identify them by their uniform. We can ask to see a badge, we can ask for their name, they are out there as the first line of defense for _lawlessness_. They go after dangerous people all the time, and more importantly despite the fact I believe that police departments could do better when it comes to holding officers accountable, they _are_ held accountable. They aren't allowed to simply barge into buildings and start shooting, and why? Because there are procedures, there are _rules_. Rules that enhanced individuals clearly don't want to follow because why? They're enhanced?" Charlie smiles for the camera and crosses her legs.

"Superheroes have done a lot of good—" Quinn tries, only to be cut off when Charlie shakes her head.

"These are the facts Quinn. This year our city is going to spend 160 billion dollars on repairs from enhance beings brawling in the street. There are schools in this city that can't afford to allow the kids to bring home textbooks. Those kids are generally from the poorer neighborhoods, which are for the most part minorities. Those kids don't get a chance to succeed in life, some do of course, there are a few success stories every year but they don't have the same opportunities, they don't get the same resources that the kids in richer communities do. Some of those children will be enhanced, some of those enhanced people will simply turn to a life of crime because it pays better than some fast-food work. It's easier, and it's all they know. So, this _good_ that superheroes are supposedly doing is short-sighted. In reality heroes are doing far more harm than good and perpetuating a vicious cycle. I haven't even gotten into the massive loss of life every year. Which is far more important to me."

"You're saying that every supervillain comes from a poor broken home?" Quinn tries to clarify. It should be easy enough to find someone who doesn't fit that mold to disprove Charlie's claim.

"Of course not, I mean we came from an upper middle class family and here you are." Charlie retorts and then laughs as if what she said was _hilarious_.

"Right, because _I'm_ the villain." Quinn sighs indulgently, "Me. The one who volunteers to put her life in danger to save countless lives—"

" _Save_?" Charlie interrupts. She's been watching the time, _waiting_ and she's glad that she managed to hold onto whatever threads of patience she had clung to. "And what about those you _slaughtered_."

"—What?"

Santana paused and turned to Charlie a frown on her face. She wasn't sure where this was going either but Charlie looked agitated. The arrogant look on her face was gone, and she could see pain. "Char—"

Charlie stands, and begins to unhook her mic, "You're right Quinn this is personal. You're also right in saying that the reason that I'm doing this is completely because of your actions, and it's not because I'm a petty child who was jealous that you got powers. Look at me I'm a billionaire, I sleep with the most beautiful women in the world daily. While you? You're a narcissistic reporter who may not be guilty of traditional murder but you are guilty of negligent homicide at the very least."

"I don't know where you get your information—"

"But the real question isn't whether you're guilty or not. It's how many. How many lives have you taken, _Riptide_? Do you even know?"

"None."

"Bullshit." Charlie scoffs. "And that's _precisely_ why this is a battle I have to fight. Because _you_ don't even _know_. You don't know her name, you don't know what she meant to me, you don't even know that she _existed_. That she had a family—two brothers, a mother and a father who loved her dearly. A fiancé who loved her and built a multi-billion dollar company from the ground up in her name." Charlie's voice shakes for a moment and she swallows. "She died, because you tapped into one of the water mains, underneath a university causing structural weakness that caused part of the collapse."

Quinn blinks. She doesn't even remember that fight, but it sounds like something she would do. "I was just doing my job—"

"Your _job_? You mean the one that you had qualifications for, regulating agencies, and people to report to? Or the _job_ where you decided that going after an enhanced human who had merely robbed a store warranted destroying an entire university and killing three people?" Charlie drives her point home. Time is up and she's _done_ trying to play nice. "Either way, you should probably get a new job then." With that Charlie tosses her mic to the ground and walks up to Santana taking her cane from her. Santana didn't put up any resistance and she slams the metal cane against the ground sending a small vial shooting from the top. She shakes it twice, and returns to her twin grabbing her arm and slamming the booster shot into Quinn's arm. She ignores her cry of pain and instead pockets the vial. "There you go. I just fixed your whole _walking_ problem. I would say that it's not going to hurt Quinn, but _trust me_ when I say it's going to fucking hurt. You're welcome." With that Charlie turns and storms out of the conference room, leaving everyone stunned in her wake.

Santana is too shocked to follow Charlie. She knows that Charlie probably won't leave without her—but she can't _believe_ what she's heard. For _years_ she thought the rift between Quinn and Charlie had been mutual distaste. She had no idea— "What did you do?"

"I don't know." Quinn murmurs. Her own eyes don't move from the small trickle of blood running down her arm. She motions at the camera man to end filming this, this wasn't what she had planned.

~O~

Santana spent the entire car ride back to Charlie's apartment, trying to figure out something to say. What _was_ there to say? Elaine Puckerman—that was the heartbreaking connection. Charlie slips out of the car as soon as it pulls up to her home and shuts the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, Santana steels herself and follows behind. It's only until they are in the elevator together that she finally attempts to talk to Charlie. "I'm—"

"I got you a job. You're going to take it. You hate being my bodyguard, and I hate having you sleep on my couch. It's weird. I bought you a condo downstairs, paid above market value for it. You'll take it." Charlie informs her bluntly.

Santana stared at Charlie mutely, unsure what to say or to do. "A job?" she presses finally.

"You're the new face of whatever they decide to call the new superhero task force. You'll have to go through training of course and Prometheus will be supplying the new department, task force—whatever _this_ is with gear and uniforms, and I'll be coordinating with it. You'll go through intense training and you'll join a police academy, as well as go through some military training."

"You're firing me?"

"I was _attacked_ under your watch." Charlie points out. "But no. Like I said, I know you hate this _thing_ we have going on. Your duty to Quinn is over, it's time that you should get to live _your_ life. And I know how much you want to be a hero. Which is why I put _your_ name up for consideration. I got the news earlier that they'll be contacting you soon to offer you the job."

Santana felt like something was missing but was too taken aback to put her finger on it. "Why me? I thought you hated heroes."

"It's not that I don't believe there should be _any_ heroes. I want them to be regulated and _accountable_ for their actions." Charlie sighs with a half-irritated huff. "And I guess, I trust you too. You're—not like them. Careless—I'm not saying that people haven't died on your watch but it's not because you did something outrageously stupid, or selfish. I think you need the training." Charlie explains as she walks towards her apartment door.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. I'm not doing you a favor, there's probably going to be a lot of backlash but hopefully there will be heroes who believe in what I believe in and are willing to try." Charlie adds before entering her apartment. She makes a beeline for her cabinets and pulls out an expensive looking bottle of scotch and pours a drink before pushing the glass towards Santana. She takes a swig directly from the bottle and unbuttons the top button of her shirt. "So take the job," Charlie throws in before heading to the closed off room.

Santana winces and takes the glass before following Charlie, she had learned that Charlie in this mood could probably invent something to destroy the world on a whim and she couldn't just leave her. Not like this. "Fine. I'll take the job, but we're going to need to talk about getting a futon that I can sleep on."

"I was under the opinion that this was just a temporary solution, which is why you are moving one floor down. I am not putting a futon in my apartment. You can however keep the couch. I think I need to—Brittany said that I shouldn't stay in this place—it's like a mausoleum." Charlie murmured, eyeing the room that she's still unable to enter.

Santana sighs and takes a deep breath when Charlie pushes the door open and stares at the open room. "So tell me about her." Charlie turns to look at her and Santana takes another breath before continuing with this line of questioning. "Where did you meet?"

Charlie smirks as her eyes rake over the contents in the room, memories of Elaine flooding her mind. "Where do I even start?"

"At the beginning?"

Charlie exhales, slowly, "I was late, I had a class to teach and I was late. I had been playing games with Brittany all night and I overslept. I slammed right into her knocking everything down and it was like those stupid movies you know? Where your eyes meet? She was beautiful—and very annoyed with me," Charlie laughs taking another swig of her bottle and running a hand through her hair, she can feel her eyes burn as the tears begin to form.


	15. Volume 03: Issue 01

"I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do because we don't _actually_ know what's happening to her."

Rachel scowled at the nameless doctor and winced when Quinn's body arched and she screamed in agony. It was like a scene out of the _exorcist_ or something. Quinn was _hurting_. "What do you mean that you don't actually know what's happening to her, you are _doctor's_ right?"

"Yes, but this isn't anything we've seen before, if we didn't know any better we'd assume that she had tetanus—"

"How do you know that she doesn't?" Rachel demands.

"Because she's currently up to date on all her vaccinations, the only puncture wound that we found on her was the one that you state was given to her by her ' _villainous'_ twin sister, who just happens to be one of the greatest minds on the planet. We excluded it from the differential because there is something _insane_ going on with her blood work right now."

Rachel bit her lip, as Quinn let out another blood curdling scream. She couldn't just _leave_ Quinn alone here by herself. "What she did was illegal right?"

"Well, people generally frown on giving non-terminal patients non-FDA approved treatments. This wasn't even in a phase one trial, there is no literature on what Quinn is going through right now, we don't even know if we can give her something for the pain." The doctor informed her in an exasperated tone.

Rachel scowled, "What if I were to get Charlie Fabray down here, right at this moment to tell you _exactly_ what she did, then would you be able to fix what's wrong?" Quinn's body spasmed violently and began to contort into various positions.

"I'm sorry Ms. Berry, but unfortunately I don't think there's a lot we can do. We can however move her to a Prometheus facility, they are usually on the bleeding edge of technology and since it was a _Prometheus_ experiment that—"

"Have you gone _absolutely_ mental? Why in the world would I take her to a facility in which the CEO is brazen enough to assault her on television, not to mention lie to the world. Her career is _ruined_ and—" Rachel stops talking, the spasms or whatever had afflicted Quinn had kept her in a near state of pain, and she had already screamed herself hoarse. She had no idea what the damage was going to do to Quinn's vocal chords, but for the past minute or so there hadn't been any screams. In fact, there hadn't been any painful muscle spasm. "Quinn?" Rachel's voice wavers as she approaches Quinn's side.

She had been the one to find her a few hours ago, she had seen the interview. Everyone had _seen_ the interview and she had come to try and talk Quinn off the proverbial ledge when she had heard the screaming inside. She would need to replace Quinn's door but seeing her on the ground like that her muscles spasming. It had taken all her willpower to not go and _find_ Charlie Fabray and drag her to the nearest prison. A task that would be considerably more difficult with Santana _choosing_ Charlie's side.

For someone who _had_ claimed to love Quinn more than anything—it didn't matter if they were divorced or in the process of getting divorced, or they had been divorced for ten years, she would think that Santana would care enough to get Quinn the help she needed. That she would turn against Charlie, and yet Santana was still with her.

Rachel exhaled, blowing away her frustration as she made her way to Quinn's side, frowning when she realizes that Quinn's eyes are still closed. She frowns slightly and reaches for Quinn's hand. If it wasn't for the steady sound of Quinn's heartbeat she would simply assume that she was dead.

"Well that was unexpected, and it's just prove that this isn't _tetanus_ let alone—"

Quinn gasped for air noisily her body jerking upwards before falling down on the bed, as she opened her eyes. It felt like she had gone several rounds with some powerhouse villain, or a sparring session with Santana when she forced her to go all out. _"Ow—fuck_!" She manages her voice hoarse, as she stares up at the ceiling.

Rachel immediately gripped her hands tightly, "Quinn—are you okay—I mean obviously you're not—what did she do to you?" Rachel babbled, loathing the helpless feeling. Here she was a leader in the superhero community and she still had to sit by and watch while her—while _Quinn_ writhed in pain.

Quinn stared at the ceiling for a moment, her body felt _different_ everything just felt odd, like there was an odd buzz to it. She blinked when the doctor shined a light into her eye, and lifted her arm to block the bright light which was giving her a migraine.

"Mrs. Fabray—may I call you Quinn?"

Quinn nodded, "Whatever just no more lights," she mumbles, wincing at her hoarse and scratchy her voice was. "Water?" she begged turning to Rachel who immediately went to go get her some water.

"We will need to do a full examination, but I imagine that can wait until you feel better—where are my manners. I apologize I'm Doctor Jones and I would just like to know what you remember before you were brought in."

Quinn waited until Rachel was back and she felt the straw poking at her lips. She takes a sip, wincing at how warm is and reaching up to touch the plastic cup. She takes another sip sighing at the cold water that soothes the hoarseness in her throat. "My career being flushed away, no one is ever going to take me seriously as a journalist. I can't _walk_ so I can't be a super-hero. My wife—soon to be ex-wife demanding to know what I did—I didn't do anything different—I was just trying to be a hero. It wasn't like I— _fuck_ —I didn't _know_."

"I know." Rachel assured reaching for Quinn's hand again.

Quinn closed her eyes and pulled her hand away. She was a _failure_ , tangling with her twin had been the worst idea of her life. Charlie had probably gotten her _fired_ and now there would probably be several wrongful death suits levied against her.

"Quinn, you need to understand that _none_ of this is your fault," Rachel informs her reaching for her hand again and taking it, holding it tightly. "What happened was an _unfortunate_ accident. Besides don't you think it's _highly_ suspicious that Charlie played this close to her chest. If this was truly the love of her life, like she claimed, then why is she just bringing this up now?" Rachel points out.

Quinn swallowed, there was such an earnestness to Rachel's voice that it _almost_ pulled her out of the self-loathing and despair that she personally felt. "Charlie's a _genius_ , and she's slow and methodical when she wants to be. No one can read a crowd better than her. So this is probably the _long_ game. She wanted to destroy my life and she was just waiting for the right opportunity." Quinn frowns. "Santana—she _took_ Santana from me. I took away the person she loved and she—took Santana." Quinn let out a bitter laugh at the thought.

"Santana is _many_ things, she's brash and angry and certainly hurt at what we did to her but she's not _stupid_. Even if right now, she's on Charlie's side because she believes the story of this, she's not going to end up _falling_ for Charlie. It at it's core is _incestous_ and people will talk." Rachel pointed out. She knew _scandals_ and this was a major one. Even Charlie had to know that. "Santana will eventually start questioning Charlie's intentions, it's _Charlie_ after all. And I don't think your career is _over_ , the media seems to be split on this, and I'm sure that if you play your cards right you can get an anchor position with a major news network. I can get a PR firm—"

Quinn interrupts Rachel's attempt at comfort with a pained scream.

"Why can't you _do_ anything?" Rachel snaps.

Doctor Jones sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, we just went over this. We don't even know if the pain is localized—"

"It's my _legs_." Quinn gasps out, her fists curling around the small hospital blanket that's draped on top of her.

"Her legs?" Rachel's jaw drops. Part of the reason for Quinn's surly attitude had been the devastating loss of control and function. "I thought she wasn't supposed to _feel_ her legs. Why is she in so much pain?"

"She's not. All of her scans—"

But Quinn wasn't about to listen to any more medical opinions. Her legs were practically on _fire_. Using mostly her arms, she turns her body to drape her legs off the edge of the bed. It's a move she's practically perfected over the last few months and she gasps when her toes brush against the cold hard tile. "No way." Against her better judgement she put her weight on her feet and pushed off the bed, screaming in pain as her knees buckled below her.

"What's going on?"

Quinn reached down to pinch her legs, and winced as she felt her body buckle under the pain. She turns to Dr. Jones. Charlie couldn't have— "What's going on?"

Dr. Jones stared at Quinn, "We'll need to run a full neurological exam on you, but it seems—that whatever the experimental treatment that she injected you with gave you the ability to walk again or at the very least feel pain. I don't understand—" Dr. Jones said taking a step forward." _How_? I think I need to bring my colleagues—this may be way over my pay grade," she admits.

Rachel stares at Quinn's legs before looking at Quinn's face. This was not the action of a super villain at least she wasn't quite sure anymore, perhaps there was something she was missing. Something that Charlie did or had done— "It's okay Quinn, we'll figure it out. I promise you we'll figure it out." Rachel whispered in a soothing tone as Quinn burst out into tears.

~O~

Quinn wheels herself into the lobby a little under two weeks later. The doctors were baffled, but even they could agree that she wasn't going to get any _worse_ in the immediate future. That was as much hope she could muster right now and she was done waiting around with her question.

Today she was going to get her answers.

The entire lobby around her falls silent as she pushes herself forward. She's able to walk short distances and even stand for periods of time but it completely wipes her out. No matter what, she's not going to leave herself vulnerable in _Charlie's_ personal domain.

She ignores the prying looks and judgmental eyes and pushes herself toward the receptionist's desk. "I'm Quinn. I need to talk to Charlie."

"Right. I remember you. Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist, Janice, crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. She wasn't going to make a fool of Charlie again.

"She's my _sister_ , of course I don't have an appointment. I'm sure she'd like to know that using me as her guinea pig _worked_. Also I'm sure she broke several laws and what she did to me was _televised_. So the way I see it, you let me up to see her or I call the cops and have her dragged out of here in cuffs, it probably won't stick, but it'll be _embarrassing_."

Janice hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone and dialing a number. "You told me to inform you if she was here again. She is here again and she wants to see Ms. Fabray." Janice listens for a few moments before ending the call and forcing a smile to her lips. "Someone will be down to see you in a few minutes. Just sit tight."

Quinn scowls at the unintended slight but shakes her head. It's not worth it to freak out at the lowly gate-keeper. Whatever. She just needed answers.

She's not waiting long before Charlie's slimy assistant slinks down to the lobby. She should have known that Charlie couldn't even do her dirty work herself. "Quinn. Always a pleasure, but Charlie—"

"Is inexplicably unavailable for some reason, right?"

He smiles. "I'm glad you understand at least how these things work." Charlie was actually busy trying to deal with the fallout, it had been one of her own making. Normally he would be busting his ass trying to deal with the board, but they were pleased with her actions given that Prometheus's stock price had jumped nearly twenty percent.

She scowls. "She ruined my life on national television. The least she can do—"

"The _least_ she can do is to tell you to go fuck yourself. Look, I'm all for a witty exchange where we trade barbs only until you realize that you are woefully underprepared, but you _got_ what you wanted. Sure, she humiliated you in front of millions, but she _fixed_ you. She didn't make you wait for years of drug trials and approvals. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then please get off this company's property. She doesn't _owe_ you anything, especially since the FDA is currently circling around her like sharks for the stunt she pulled just so _you_ could get your precious way. No one here needs or _wants_ your presence."

Quinn grits her teeth. "What about—"

"Your sister? She told me to tell you to fuck off. Not in those exact words, I think her exact phrase was, 'I hope I never have to see her smarmy ass again.' So no. You're not getting in to see the CEO of a multi-billion conglomerate without an _appointment_ and a security check."

"She _assaulted_ me and forced me to writhe in pain for days because no one knows what the fuck she did to me." Quinn snaps. "I deserve to know if it's permanent, or at least what the hell she wants from me in return." Nothing was ever free in this world, and no mistake ever went unnoticed. Being a Fabray had taught her that, this newest nightmare in her life had only confirmed it.

"She wants you to go away." Kurt reiterates slowly. "So before you continue down that train of thought where she's the big bad villain you have to defeat, let me spell this out for you: she gave you everything you wanted. She figured out the serum or whatever she used to fix what was wrong with you. She gave it to you before it could be rolled out through regular FDA tests and procedures. As far as I know, it's permanent unless you do something incredibly stupid which I'm sure is just an inevitability. So if that's all, then I believe this is goodbye."

"Where's my wife then?" Quinn tries a different tactic. Charlie's _going_ to talk to her whether she likes it or not.

Santana? You mean your soon to be _ex-wife_?" Kurt narrowed his eyes pointedly. "She's no longer here, and despite the fact that I've been tempting karma by doing cartwheels and somersaults in my office to celebrate my freedom, it doesn't seem like she's coming back. So do me a favor, quit now while you're ahead. I don't want to have to call security." He spun on his heel and stormed back toward the elevator, stopping after a moment. "Please don't think about tapping into any water mains either, the people here have families, and loved ones. I feel that it's important that you should know that, since you clearly don't value human life like your twin does." Kurt snipes at her before turning back around and making his way to the elevator without sparing her a second glance.

Quinn slumped as she let the information wash over her. It didn't seem real. But a nagging voice reminded her, what good was the ability to walk if she still lost everything important in her life?


	16. Volume 03: Issue 02

Santana glanced around her rather empty apartment, wincing at how big and spacious it was. It didn't _feel_ like home to her, it didn't feel warm. It just felt empty, with her new job and all the training and the background checks that she was going through for the new government task force, she hadn't seen Charlie. Part of her wondered if Charlie had simply been avoiding her, she had tried texting her several times only to receive complete radio silence.

She hated being ignored. Especially now, when she was still in the midst of a divorce that she truly didn't want to think about.

So she really only did the next logical thing. If Charlie was avoiding her, then she'd just have to show up at Charlie's apartment and wait for her. If Charlie didn't want her there, then maybe she shouldn't have let Santana keep her key. She'd help herself to the ice cream and whatever delicious food that Charlie had in her fridge.

She pushes the button for the elevator a few times, somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that it doesn't really help make the elevator come faster but it still makes her feel better. She waits impatiently for a few minutes until the doors open and an older man steps off.

"Ray—stop. Where do you think you're going?" A woman scowls at the elevator-exiting man.

"Oh. Isn't this the right floor?"

"No, Kurt said that it was the top floor."

Santana watched the display before shaking her head. They had to be heading up to Charlie's apartment. Which meant that the bags of food lining the back of the elevator were soon going to be put to good use. "You know Charlie? I was just heading up there myself." Santana smiles brightly at them, trying not to look like she was _leering_ at the bags of food.

Ruth studies her for a moment, squinting at her. "We've seen you on the TV," she says after a moment recognizing Santana after a moment. Ray frowned slightly and looked at his wife expecting her to fill him in, causing her to sigh. "She's the one that's always around Charlie, remember."

Santana nods, "I was her bodyguard," Santana supplies after a moment.

"So you know where she is?"

"No, she fired me," Santana admits shrugging. "I think it was her way to get me to move on to bigger and better things," Santana admits. "I was also her former roommate, but I think she likes her own space, so she bought the place downstairs."

"Sounds about right," Ray says after a moment. "You're one of those—super's right?"

Santana stiffened there was some anger when he said those words but she was not going to show him any fear. "I am, but Charlie's convinced me that we _need_ registration at least for those who want to be _heroes_."

Ray grunts at this and focuses on the elevator door, causing Ruth to take his hand and rub the knuckles gently, "I'm sorry, there aren't that many enhanced people where we're from—and our daughter was killed by the negligence of one. It's probably why Charlie's been avoiding our calls—"

"She knew," Ray interrupted angrily. "She knew and didn't tell us. She should be avoiding our calls," he grumbled.

It suddenly clicks and Santana winces inwardly, they were Elaine's parents. Maybe it would just be best to stay out of it for now. She didn't know the story well enough for her opinion to matter.

Ray continues getting worked up, "Did she think it would _matter_? I can't believe she didn't tell us."

"Ray, she was grieving too and I'm sure she thought the idea that her twin was responsible was hard enough—"

"Then she should have let us help her. I'm going to beat that girl when I see her." He threatened half-heartedly.

Santana nods at this statement, "She's like that, probably could use a good beating. For someone who is the supposed smartest person in the world she sure does a bunch of dumb things _all the_ time."

Ray snorted at this, studying Santana for a moment, "You kept her out of trouble?"

"I attempted to, but she's not very good at doing what I say," Santana informs him before sticking out her hand. "Santana Lopez, I was Charlie's bodyguard and now I'm her soon to be ex-sister-in-law."

Ruth raises a brow, "It's a pleasure to meet you Santana, we thought we'd come down here and attempt to tempt Charlie out with some food, it wasn't how we planned to spend our wedding anniversary but—"

"Charlie's family, we need to make sure she's okay. She's the only daughter we have left," Ray rumbles shaking his head.

"Well I told you that we should have showed up last time, but you said Noah would be enough," Ruth sighs as the elevator doors open and they approach Charlie's apartment. She watches as Santana pulls out a key before she punches in a code and then unlocks the door for them.

"Hey Charlie?" Santana called out and frowned. "She's not here."

"She was supposed to be, that assistant of hers said that she'd meet us here." Ray frowned looking at the fancy New York apartment. His daughter had lived here; he could see why she would like it. He could see the stack of those sappy romance flicks that she liked to watch with her mother after a breakup.

"Well, I suppose I should start getting ready then, it's obvious she doesn't use the kitchen at all, so I hope I can find everything. Would you like to join us Santana?"

Santana grinned widely, she had a feeling that Charlie would not be amused by her presence. She personally didn't care. "I'd love too."

~O~

"She was nervous meeting us you know, and Elaine, I think Elaine enjoyed the panic just a bit. No one said that I _raised_ a saint, though she had Ray wrapped around her fingers," Ruth continues as she makes some mashed potatoes. "So she's incredibly nervous and the first thing Ray asks her is if she can fix the tractor. She of course says yes and that she'd take a look at it. After Ray's done on the farm—" Ruth turns to the door when she hears it creak and glances at Charlie who immediately ducks behind the front door. Ruth tries not to shake her head, and decides to simply continue on with her story. "After Ray's done on the farm he decides to check how she's doing. Elaine is there slightly annoyed that Charlie's been cooped up in the garage all day. Yet all she does, is insist that Ray would love her once she finished with the tractor. So Ray gets done and goes to see what the fuss is all about and he sees his beloved tractor—"

"She ruined it," Ray informs Santana bluntly not tearing his eyes away from the sports game that he was watching.

" _I did not!_ " Charlie huffs popping up from behind the doorway irritation on her face, causing Santana to look up at her from where she was currently demolishing an apple pie. "Are you stealing my food again?"

Santana dragged her fork along the bottom of the pie tray to get a few more crumbs, "Yes. You should have picked up your phone when they called. I mean seriously Charlie how could you keep them waiting. It's been twenty minutes."

Charlie studied Ray for a moment, slightly glad that he seemed to be too preoccupied with the sports game to notice her. "My new bodyguard is an _idiot_ ," Charlie admits with a wave of her hand trying to keep her voice even. "Also it's important to note that I didn't _ruin_ Ray's tractor I upgraded it. It's still running, it's stronger and a bit faster than before. I _improved_ it."

"He asked you to fix it not upgrade it," Santana's smile grows bigger when Charlie shoots her an irritated look. "You know it's true."

"No one asked you—and one of these days I am going to press charges for breaking and entering."

"I have a key."

"You steal my food."

Ruth watched the back and forth as the two of them argued for a moment, studying Charlie for a long moment and then Santana they seemed rather _comfortable_ with one another and it had been a long time since she'd seen the life in Charlie's eyes.

"I was asked to join Ray and Ruth for dinner, no one invited you," Santana points out pushing the apple pie just out of Charlie's reach.

"You know when the Senate asked me if I had any concerns about you, I should have bluntly said you enjoy breaking my stuff and _stealing_ my food. It's a very valid concern," Charlie snaps.

The game finally came to a commercial and it was enough to cause Ray to finally start fully paying attention to his surroundings and turns to Charlie. His face going serious for a moment, "Did you think it mattered?"

Charlie turns to Ray finally deciding to ignore Santana, "My sister killed your daughter through her sheer ineptitude and negligence. I _did_ think it mattered. It should matter and I don't know why you're not furious at me—"

"Because _you_ didn't kill her. We've been over this; you may be a genius but _what_ were you going to do? Stay by her side for the rest of your life?"

"It wasn't some freak accident. It was Quinn's negligence. It was her disregard for human life in the pursuit of—"

"You and Quinn are _identical_ twins. That's the real reason you didn't tell them," Santana interrupts. She knows it's not her place, to get involved but Charlie was skirting the issue.

Charlie raised a brow, "Learned that in Psychology 101 did we?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "I get it not as smart as you, but I'm not wrong. At least it's _part_ of the reason you didn't tell her. It's probably not the full reason. I mean you _cured_ her after all."

"You cured her?" Ray questions frowning.

Charlie sighed and pointed to Santana. "Remember when I said she destroyed my stuff? It's _her_ fault. I was quite indifferent to Quinn's plight until _she_ started to break my stuff. She wouldn't leave it alone so I made a promise. Now the FDA's crawling up my ass, something about using Quinn as a guinea pig, I'm looking at a huge fine, possibly some criminal charges," Charlie shrugged and looked at Santana. "This is why you don't fuck with the FDA, they just _love_ to throw their weight around every now and again."

" _Damn government_ ," Ray and Charlie say at the same time and Charlie flashes him a smile.

Ruth clenches her jaw and stares the pair of them down. "Of course they're going to throw their weight around, you _assaulted_ someone with an untested medical treatment. That's irresponsible—"

"First, she _asked_ me to bypass all the FDA trials, so it's not like I assaulted her. It was hardly that bad—" Charlie defends. Hoping that Ruth isn't actually as upset about this as she seems to be, she adds, " _and_ it worked didn't it? If anything, she should be grateful that I even helped her."

But Ruth is unimpressed. "We're going to talk about this later."

Charlie huffs. And she thought that one set of parents that she could pay off every six months was bad. But the look from Ruth had her merely nodding in reply.

Santana watches the scene with interest. She's never seen someone shut Charlie up that quickly, she was going to have to learn that trick someday.

~O~

Hours later, Ruth and Ray had excused themselves to go back to their hotel, refusing to take Charlie's bed even though she offered it several times. Santana didn't point out that Charlie never made _her_ that offer, and instead accepted the warm hugs and promises to join them tomorrow for lunch and sightseeing.

Even though Charlie had every reason to try and kick her out, she hadn't. Instead, they sat on the balcony overlooking the city and sipping slowly on her glass of red wine that probably cost more than if she donated a kidney on the black market.

After a few more minutes of taking in the sight, Santana clears her throat. "So they're Elaine's parents."

"Do we have to talk about this?" Charlie rubs her eye tiredly. "Yes, those are Elaine's parents, they sort of—I'm family. I have a family that I don't fucking hate. That sort of accept me for who I am, they don't get it, me I think but not a lot of people do. But I love them as if they were my own parents. Considering the _disappointment_ my parents ended up being and the family drama that is _Quinn_ , I just needed something normal and healthy in my life and they're it. So yes. They're Elaine's parents—"

"They seem like _good_ people, and I'm not saying that because Ruth kept putting more food on my plate, I'm saying that because it's obvious that they care for you and you need that."

"Last time I checked your parents loved you too, so when are you going to tell them that you're getting divorced from Quinn?"

"Never, they weren't thrilled that I was marrying Quinn and I don't want my Mami to give me that _look_ , you know when you're right but you're trying not to be smug about it," Santana sighed. It was self-isolation at best, she knew she'd eventually have to tell her parents. "Besides the papers haven't been signed yet. Quinn's holding out."

"Quinn showed up at the main offices, wanted to bitch to me about _something_. I had Kurt send her away. She asked about you, Kurt mentioned that you no longer worked at Prometheus, which is true, and before you ink any lucrative deals I suggest waiting post-divorce. I'm rich enough to understand that at least. Also next time you get married, make sure a pre-nup is involved."

Santana rolled her eyes, marriage had been an epic disaster and there was no way that she was going through that again. She had never been with anyone other than Quinn, it felt strange to be on her own for once. It felt good and it was a feeling that made her feel guilty, "Did you and Elaine—"

Charlie hummed, "Out of all the billionaires that I know, I'm probably the most liquid, and by that I mean I have cold hard cash and a secret layer just filled to the brim with gold and various other precious metals that are easy to sell. That's because _most_ of my money comes from the patents that I have—"

"Yes. I get it, you're richer than god, so I guess that's a yes—"

"It's a no. The way I saw it, that even if Elaine took half of what I had I could always get more money, and even if I couldn't. Half of what I have is still bigger than the GDP of some nations, so there is no real need for me to be petty over money. Besides if Elaine left—who was I going to spend it on? I hate my family, Brittany can buy her own things, Ray would shoot me if I gave him any money—" Charlie hummed.

"So you're spending it on me?"

"You're the one drinking a glass of wine that's worth over eight thousand dollars," Charlie pointed out watching as Santana's eyes bugged at this. "I'm enjoying life, and right now you're in that sphere, at least you're not _breaking_ my shit anymore."

Santana stared at the glass, she had thought it was a few thousand dollars but over eight thousand? Charlie seemed to enjoy throwing money at stuff. "I— _shit_ Charlie how am I supposed to make it up to you? The job, the apartment—"

"Keep your ex-wife away from me, get her to sign the divorce papers and tell her to stay off Prometheus or better yet, inform the world that she _begged me_ to use her as a guinea pig. Get the FDA off my ass, as far as I'm concerned she _owes me_."


	17. Volume 03: Issue 03

**C:\Users\Admin Start Artemis Protocol _**

Charlie stared at the blinking underscore her finger hovering aboard the enter key. It was rare for her to ever just _stop_ and think about what she was doing and whether it was truly for the benefit of mankind or simply for the benefit of her pocketbook. There was very few people who were intelligent enough to argue ethics with her and fewer people who could see the world as she did.

Creating an AI, wasn't something that she should be taken lightly, but the Aegis armor _needed_ a personal AI, something that could analyze data perfectly. It would need to be in a system that was closed to the outside world. It was a challenge, but she had created a kill switch, and she had built this computer for _the sole_ purpose of containing her attempt at an AI for now. It was years of rewriting code, it was years of making sure the proper safeguards were in place. It wasn't as if she hadn't written complex code before in her sleep, but she wanted it to be _sentient._ It would be her greatest achievement and yet another Nobel Prize to put up in her office.

She stared at the cursor for a moment, she supposed the only real thing that gave her pause was whether she was worthy of being the one that birthed an _AI_ into the world. Whether she was worthy to be the one to teach it. She didn't want to inadvertently create Skynet.

"Miss Fabray."

Charlie looks up from the terminal to Dave Karofsky, her new head of security. The board had insisted that she get an entire team. What she _knew_ was that it was cramping her style, and she was sure that she was more annoyed _now_ then she had ever been with Santana destroying her things. At least Santana was reasonably intelligent. She was sure that Dave had been hit one too many times in the head. "Karofsky, I'm aware that I'm in a relatively public space, but what part of I don't want to be disturbed do you not understand?"

Dave Karofsky's face turned red and he cleared his throat as Charlie closed the laptop and leaned back. "I'm sorry but I received a call from Kurt and he insisted that you make some time for this meeting. It's about the FDA—"

Charlie made a face, she didn't want to deal with the FDA today—or ever. She would personally rather be with Ray and Ruth, who were currently taking an aerial tour of the city one her helicopter. But it was their second honeymoon and she didn't want to interfere. "Fine, send them up."

"Right away," David said moving too quickly to do just that.

Charlie tapped the top of the laptop before leaning back and picking up her espresso cup, she would make the decision later. Perhaps she would talk to Brittany about it, it wasn't something that she could decide unilaterally. "Perhaps a brain trust of sorts," she mumbles to herself. The best and brightest minds and perhaps someone of average of intelligence. Sometimes common sense wasn't common, Ray had some kernels of wisdom as did Ruth. She couldn't simply dismiss their opinion because they were not as educated.

"Miss Fabray, Fannie Mendel here to see you," Dave introduced the short woman who was wearing thick glasses and an awful bright blue pant suit. "From the FDA."

Charlie took another sip of her espresso studying the woman in front of her. Her eyes widen as she takes in the information from her Augmented Reality contacts. She wants to groan, as the contacts confirm that the woman before her has nothing to do with the FDA. "Seriously Dave? Maybe I should offer Santana triple what you're making, do you think she'll come back?"

"Excuse me?"

"Because _she_ wouldn't have let an imposter get all the way back here—"

"Imposter?" The woman sputters, blushing, "I think you're mistaken."

"—without at least checking her credentials. The name itself should have been a dead giveaway—Franny from Funny Girl and Mendel is the last name from Yentl."

The woman's jaw drops. "How do you know that?"

Charlie's brow furrows, "Gross. How do I know that?" She shakes her head when she realizes that knowledge could only have one source. "Also, make a note: I need a new gay assistant." She turns her attention to Dave, "You probably go out to those gay clubs, I think I'm going to need a new twink, is that the correct term for them? Kurt's a twink right? I have no idea, though I have always liked otters. I have no idea what they are but otters are cute right? Mental note, find out why the gay population has this weird obsession with animals."

Dave's face pales. "Why are you asking me? I'm not _gay_."

Charlie rolls her eyes. "Of course you're not. And I'm the lost princess Anastasia." She turns her attention back to the woman in the bright blue pant suit. "What do you want _Rachel_? I am currently running a million mathematical problems in my mind right now. Also I'm trying to figure out if it's worth it to have clearly not-gay Dave here throw you off this lovely rooftop."

Rachel scowled and turned to Dave, "You know you can sue for the emotional distress caused by such a hostile work environment."

"Uh—"

Charlie shrugged, "Well, I have to put up with his incompetence, I think it's a fair trade off. Did you check her credentials Dave?"

"No. But—"

"Exactly, now Rachel, I suggest you _spit it out_ , before I have the rest of my security force escort you out of this building and into a police car for trespassing. I own this building, and I've had more than enough of you and my sister—" Charlie trails off for a moment and picks up her cane, using it to push herself to her feet as she moves towards the edge. "She's here isn't she?"

"Who?" Rachel tries to stall. She doesn't know how it went this badly so quickly but Quinn deserves answers.

"My semi-cyborg twin."

"You turned her into a _cyborg_?" Rachel gasps.

"What do you think nanotechnology is?" Charlie frowns, "It's not as bad as it sounds. She's walking isn't she?"

"At what cost? She's terrified that any second she could be used as some weapon to hurt innocent people on your quest for vengeance."

Charlie smirks. "That's a fascinating narrative. Too bad that there's not a shred of reality to it, but who knows maybe you and Quinn could write it down. Do I get royalties if it turns into a best seller?"

Charlie's amusement only causes Rachel's annoyance to spike in frustration. No wonder Quinn and Charlie didn't talk. "After you stole everything from her?"

"The DSM-V would classify that as _projection_." Charlie retorts taking another sip of her espresso. She should have gotten one of those almond filled croissants that she enjoyed. Perhaps she should have some delivered tomorrow to Ray and Ruth's hotel room. She couldn't let them stay at some dinky hotel. They needed a view, one that was lovely and she had gotten them upgraded for the week. Much to Ray's annoyance.

"As if the world hasn't noticed how close you and Santana have gotten. How do you think she feels? Knowing that her wife is getting chummy with her _evil_ twin sister?"

Charlie bites her lip trying not to smile, it was simply absurd. "These ideas that you have aren't even remotely close to being accurate. Santana no longer works for Prometheus. She barely tolerates me and has this weird fascination with breaking into my apartment and eating my stuff, and or breaking things. So you and Quinn can live in this _crazy_ reality world if you wish too, but I have other things to worry about." Charlie took a seat and tapped her fingers along the top of her cane. "Now, since I don't have the patience let alone the _time_ to deal with all these constant interruptions. What do you want? What does Quinn want? What will it take for Quinn and the rest of my god awful family to leave me alone and let me run my company? Will a check do it? Or perhaps you'd like a money order?"

Rachel sighs. Quinn had pleaded with her not to pick a fight with Charlie and she had done just that. "She just wants to talk to you."

"You can tell her to go fuck herself." Charlie retorts stubbornly. "If she isn't able tell her I'd be happy to reprogram the Nano-tech—"

"She just wants to say thank you." Rachel interrupts. "She's in so much pain she can barely breathe and she's tired _all_ the time, but she just wants to thank you. She wants to apologize. Bury the hatchet. You two are _twins_ and she just wants the chance to talk to you."

Charlie stares at Rachel, "Do you really think that just saying 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry my callous disregard for humanity got your fiancé killed' is going to make up for anything? Do you think that it's going to erase away all the pain that I feel?"

"No."

Charlie turns to face her twin narrowing her eyes, wondering how she had gotten passed security. It was probably the wheelchair; some idiot had probably felt sorry for her. "You—"

"No. I don't expect you to just forgive me. I don't know how you feel, I don't know how much pain you're in—though I imagine that how I feel about Santana leaving me, is merely a fraction of what you feel." Quinn responds rolling towards her twin.

There was no trace of Charlie's casual yet purposefully offensive cavalier attitude as she gripped the arms of her chair more tightly. Charlie grinds her teeth but stays silent.

Quinn takes that as her cue to keep talking. She's probably not going to get another chance, and she'd better say everything she's planned for as quickly as possible lest Charlie get the drop on her and kick her out. "It hurts; you know? The Nano-bots or whatever, not the Santana thing—because _that_ sucks and hurts—" Charlie snorts at that, but Quinn barrels through, "and if anything were to happen between the two of you, I'd be screwed up forever but I get it. She's amazing."

"And yet you cheated on her. With _that_ one." Charlie gestures her head toward Rachel who huffs indignantly. "So forgive me if I don't have a lot of sympathy."

But Quinn shakes her head. She didn't mean to get distracted. Her marriage is over, and even if it wasn't she needs to work things out with _Santana,_ not with Charlie. "I didn't come here to talk about Santana—"

"Good, she doesn't work here anyway."

"I know."

"So then why are you here?" Charlie asks pointedly. She'd be happy if she never saw Quinn again and yet here she was, _again_.

Quinn swallows trying to keep her face neutral, as she studied Charlie. Her pride ached at this, coming to Charlie like this but it was the right thing to do. She needed to start doing the right things in life. "I came here to thank you. Charlie, I never thought I was going to walk again. I thought I would always just be numb and broken—"

"Yay, you're fixed!" Charlie rolls her eyes dryly. "Now can you please get out of here?"

Quinn ignores Charlie's push, she needed to get this off her chest. "But, I didn't realize that not being able to walk wasn't the thing that made me broken. I was fine. I could have been _great_. I should have been happy, that I was alive. But I was being selfish, just like I had been for years. I'm _sorry_. For everything. I'm sorry for back when we were teenagers." Quinn takes a shaky breath and pushes forward. "I just needed you to know. I _get_ it now. And I'll find a way to be better. I _owe_ that to you and Elaine."

Charlie stiffens at the name, biting down the urge to scream at her twin for daring to speak her name. But she needed to remain in control of this situation, of her emotions. It didn't matter that Quinn had uttered her name with such reverence. It simply didn't matter; it was still nothing more than a hollow apology. "Are you done?" Charlie asks gripping her cane tighter, when Quinn doesn't answer she forces herself to her feet. This was the last time that she was going to have _this_ conversation with Quinn. "Because as far as I see it, you didn't learn anything. This isn't _just_ about me, you left a path of destruction in your wake. Elaine wasn't the only person that died that day. I'm not the only person who was hurt by Elaine's death. You left a trail of bodies, and I'm simply the one standing up to you something I should have done years ago. I don't accept your apology and I will _never_ forgive you. As for the Nano-tech, that already passed through your system days ago. What you're feeling right now, that pain? That's your nerves are working. I did what you asked. Tell the FDA to get off my ass." Charlie turned to Dave. "Come along _not-gay_ Dave." Charlie said as she nodded toward him. She really would need to invest in better personal security, perhaps Santana could be of use that way. "Remind me to pick up some of those almond croissants on our way out."

"Right of course—though Kurt insisted that I remind you that you need to—"

"Kurt's opinion has been noted, and you can tell Kurt to go fuck himself," Charlie interrupts adjusting her jacket. She was going to eat what she damned well pleased, it didn't matter if Ruth's cooking generally added a few pounds to her frame. She pauses for a moment, she was sure she was forgetting something but right now her emotions were out of control and she needed _something_ or someone to help her work it out. "After you tell Kurt to go fuck himself, even though I'm sure you really want to help him with that—"

"I'm not—" Dave protests again.

"Tell him to open my little black book and call someone to help me work through some things. The only thing that I need is that they're _hot_ and they are flexible." Charlie finishes her thought leaning against the elevator door. She had _definitely_ most definitely forgotten something but at this moment she simply didn't give a shit.


	18. Volume 03: Issue 04

"It even sounds _menacing_. The Artemis protocol, Quinn, this could be the smoking gun that you're looking for. I turned on the news today and there have been rumblings that she's going to make a play for president. Your sister can not become the most powerful—"

"Rachel, _stop_. Please." Quinn said gasping for air as she slid to the ground. The parallel bars that helped her with her balance and getting used to using the right muscle groups again, were the most brutal part of her rehab. She eyes the computer that Rachel was fiddling with and frowned. She had a very bad feeling about this. "That could contain government secrets or proprietary information and truthfully, I'm just getting the hang of this walking thing again. I have a newfound respect for babies."

"Quinn, this could be your chance to restore your reputation completely." Rachel closes the computer out of respect for Quinn's wishes. But she was almost certain that Quinn just didn't see how valuable this could be. There had be something Quinn could do to reveal Charlie's villainous plots.

"Or ruin it. Prometheus has contracts with the United States, military contracts. They supply our troops with new high-tech weaponry. Both lethal and nonlethal. My sister doesn't hide from that. I don't think she supports the military as much as she claims, but it pays the bills and lets her do research in other key areas. What's going to happen if Russia or China gets their hands on these weapons? Or god forbid a terrorist cell. I'll be considered a traitor."

"Better a traitor than a villain."

"Haven't I always been a villain?" Quinn retorts. "It's time for me to give up this ridiculous feud with Charlie because I _can't_ win. I shouldn't win. The only thing I can do is move forward and be happy with what I have now."

Rachel sighs and shuffles over to Quinn, kneeling down in front of her. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You aren't a _villain_ Quinn. Despite what Charlie thinks of you. Perhaps you were far more reckless then you should have been. But you didn't take _pleasure_ in hurting people. I mean look at this situation that we're in? I don't think I could be as forgiving as you. Your sister may not be the evilest person in the world, but she doesn't do things out of the goodness of her heart either. Yes, she gives out money to charities and the like but that's a tax write-off for her. She's not out to better mankind just for the hell of it. She's there to enrich the people of her board." Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand rubbing it. "She lost someone important to her, and she punishes you for it, but what if it wasn't you? Charlie admitted the foundation was weak? How weak are we talking? You broke a water pipe, something you've done before and nothing has gone wrong other than a few people being out of water for a few days. How were you supposed to know? Even Charlie couldn't predict it."

"It was overkill. I took _serious_ risks because I wanted to get noticed." Quinn counters, grunting as she shifts a little to get comfortable. "Perhaps it was because I was young and I wanted to be famous, but I should have known better. Because my sister is right, if it wasn't Elaine it might have been someone else. I was just as dangerous as any villain, it doesn't matter if my heart was in the right place. So I need to focus on being more responsible." It affected every aspect of her life in a sense. She couldn't just be a reckless force. Not anymore.

Rachel frowned slightly, "You think that we should be forced to register."

Quinn sighed, "My sister's not wrong on this Rachel."

"Except she is. Whether or not she considers it an ability Charlie's one of the smartest people on the planet. She makes her inventions—weapons, medicine, you reported a few months ago that Prometheus has begun to acquire firms that specialize in genetic manipulation. Look at what she did to you—and yes you have gotten feeling back in your legs, but what if she had been wrong? What if she had inadvertently been wrong? You still don't know the long term ramifications of what she did to you. I doubt she even knows. Which is problematic. She's preaching about accountability but who is holding her accountable? The FDA? Do you really think the US government let alone the people are going to put her in jail for what she did? What if she inadvertently creates—I dunno a zombie apocalypse or something?"

Quinn frowns, it was a question of ethics, and she was far too tired to deal with it. "Maybe you're right and someone needs to keep Charlie's brain in check but it _can't_ be me. It can't. I may not have spoken to my sister in a decade but Charlie doesn't really like hearing the word _can't_. We're similar in that way. She'll do it just to _spite_ us." Quinn points to the laptop. "Which is why we're taking that back. We don't know what it is, maybe it's a ticking time bomb. I don't know, but what I _do know_ , what I do _understand_ is that messing with Charlie's things is bad news."

"You can't be serious. This could be the first real break we've ever had—"

"Or it could be the first step in mending bridges. Do you ever think that maybe we heroes create our own villains? I think it's time for us to show a little bit of trust in Charlie. _She_ hasn't caused the deaths of dozens of people. Who am I to judge her? I have enough blood on my hands already. I don't need any more."

"You're a _hero_."

"Because I said I was. Charlie's actually made a difference to people. I've thought a lot about this Rachel, and I'm not going to change my mind. We need to give that back."

Rachel sighs and nods, despite the fact she doesn't have any intention of following through with it. Maybe she'll find one of the league's tech guys to help her make a copy. But she knew Quinn was going to regret this in the future. It was her job, then, to make sure that they still had options. Especially since Quinn was on some apology kick.

Someone had to be looking out for Quinn's best interest, even if Quinn wouldn't do it herself.

~O~

It had been a hell of a week for Quinn. No, scratch that. It had been a hell of a year. But finally, it felt like things might be turning around. She was _walking_ , and more importantly she was finally getting her life in order. Her marriage may have failed and everyone else she knew might have turned against her, but for the first time in a long time she felt like she knew what her purpose was.

She needed to make things _right._

Everything else didn't really matter anymore.

She frowns when her doorbell starts to ring repeatedly. She's exhausted from her earlier bout of physical therapy and all she wants to do is relax and wait for Rachel to get back with take out. But Rachel has a key so whoever is at the door is basically forcing her to use her already sore muscles just to stop the incessant ringing. Groaning, she pushes herself into her chair and wheels herself over to the front door, thrusting it open with a glare she was sure could kill. Her scowl only deepened when she sees her parents waiting impatiently on her front step. "Mom, Dad. What are you doing here?"

"What do you _think_ we're doing here?" Russell snaps quickly.

"I have no idea, why you're here. You haven't visited me since I lost the ability of my legs," Quinn responds flatly narrowing her eyes at them. It had hurt, her entire worth had been predicated at what she could do and her parents had simply cast her aside. "When you don't call, or text, or respond to any of my emails. It's impossible to know why you're here."

Judy touched Russell's arm gently, "We watched your interview with Charlie—Quinn how could you?"

Quinn's mouth dries but she has a sinking feeling that they aren't here to be supportive or even consoling. "How could I, _what_?"

"How could you bait Charlie like that? You couldn't have just let it go—"

"Right. Because let me guess, Charlie cut the pair of you off?" Quinn shakes her head. She should know better than to think her parents have any interest in actually being parents.

"This has _nothing_ to do with that—" Russell snaps.

"You didn't even know that Charlie was engaged at a time in her life. I mean i certainly didn't, which means she definitely didn't tell you. So don't you dare blame this on me."

Russell's face turns and impressive shade of purple as he tries to contain his rage. "We aren't the ones that killed her."

Quinn frowned slightly, "I know. But it should be _noted_ , that Charlie and I didn't talk for years. I didn't know she was engaged, I didn't know when she graduated, I didn't know _anything_ about her life. I didn't know that she was hurting as deeply as that. I saw the pain written on her face—I admit that it's mostly _my_ fault that our relationship is like that. But you're her _parents_. You gave birth to her and you didn't know either. She didn't _call_ you. You know how I know? Because neither of you told me." Quinn responds swallowing her annoyance.

"We gave you every opportunity we could—"

"So that I could be your _trophy_. And when Charlie was in school, you thought that she was disposable. You had no idea that she would turn into the genius that was going to revolutionize the world. So instead, you _encouraged_ us to compete. Because she was just the weird daughter that you shipped off with hopes that she wouldn't get in the way of your 'hero daughter'."

"Now Quinn, don't be ridiculous." Judy interrupts, haughtily. "We probably weren't perfect parents, but we never taught you to massacre innocent lives."

"It's not like I targeted Elaine, or tried to kill her to get even with Charlie. Even Charlie agrees that this was an unfortunate accident brought on by my recklessness. That's why she's insisting that every hero gets training and registered. But let me guess, all _you_ care about is the paycheck that you're no longer going to get because Charlie realizes that she doesn't owe you anything."

"Owe us? Of course she owes us. We _raised_ you both for eighteen years. We put clothes on your back and food on your plates. Your little stunt with your sister not only destroyed _your_ career, but all of the offers we had pouring in to become commentators were yanked away because no one wants to 'offend Charlie'." Russell gets in Quinn's face, his finger wagging. "And it's all _your_ fault. If you had just kept your damned mouth shut, maybe this family would be able to support itself."

"Ah!" Quinn explodes, throwing her hands in the air exasperatedly. "You're mad because you don't get to be the next Rush Limbaugh and since neither of you have any _actual_ skills, you're screwed. Well, news flash _daddy_ , Charlie can support herself. Hell, even _I_ can support myself. So why don't you and mom get the fuck out of my house—"

"Don't talk to your mother that way—"

"Quinnie, you can't mean that—"

"I _do_ mean that. I'm tired of being pitted against Charlie. She has every right to hate me and everything I've done. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her forgiveness even if I never get it. But guess what? I'm not going to lose a single second of sleep over throwing both of you out of my life."

Russell stomps his foot. "We're your _parents—"_

 _"_ Parents that couldn't even be bothered to care when I was _assaulted_ and broke my back? Charlie deserves better than you, and so do I." Quinn scoffs slightly, this needed to be said. "The sad thing about this, she'll probably end up giving you money to make you go away. Or to keep you under her thumb when she finally makes her play for president."

"She's running for president?" Judy's eyes widened.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Everyone knows this, Charlie's been doing the rounds. She's hired some of the best political advisors in the world. She's going to make a play and probably win the White House. She's polling extremely well. Both parties are courting her because she's a registered independent. They want her. So she'll probably start putting money in your pockets soon enough. So you can stop worrying about this dry spell."

Russell smirks proudly, "A president in the family? That means that they'll eventually have to do opposition research—perhaps we should discuss with Kurt what our plan is. The family is going to be under the microscope."

"We're probably going to have to talk about that wife of yours and her—" Judy sighs and tries to come up with the politest wording, " _indiscretion_ with your sister."

Quinn grinds her teeth. "My _ex-_ wife and what Santana and Charlie do isn't any of my business anymore."

"So you're just going to let her embarrass you and this entire family in the process."

"What I know is that Charlie is intelligent and has the right people around her to deal with any of the fallout of it," Quinn snips. The real problem was that she hadn't divorced Santana, which was on her list of things to do. She just hoped that she could get one more face to face with her. She was going to make things right. "Look, I just need you to leave. If you want to talk to Charlie about her plans, then pick up the phone or go to her apartment and bother her there. I have shit to do, so if you'll excuse me." Quinn snapped at her parents, glad that she hadn't bothered to let them in. She backs up a little to clear the door and slams it for good measure.

She takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm the tingling in her fingers as she itches to use her powers to blow off some extra steam. Her parents are the only people who ever can get to her like this. Finally, after a minute she pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials Rachel.

It almost goes to voicemail before Rachel picks up. _'Quinn? Sorry, the vegan dish is taking a little longer than they thought it would.'_

"It's fine. I just thought you'd be back by now."

Rachel sighs and Quinn can practically hear her frown. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think Rachel sounded guilty. _'I should be there in a minute. I ran into Lauren and we're catching up, but it shouldn't be much longer.'_

 _'—_ _ten minutes, tops.'_ Lauren's muffled voice assures.

Quinn shifts uncomfortably. Lauren has been the league's top tech person for as long as anyone can remember, but Quinn hasn't had a reason to talk to her in a while. That didn't mean Rachel couldn't have her own friends, but—something about this felt off. Deciding to put that aside, she shakes her head. "Yeah, no that's fine. I'll see you in a few minutes then?"

 _'_ _Of course.'_ Rachel promises and ends the call.

Quinn sighs, and wheels over to her desk, and bites her lip as she studies the divorce papers that she's stared at every day for weeks. She reaches for a pen slowly and then grabs the paper and scrawled her name on the dotted line. Now she'd just have to hand the file over to Santana or her lawyer. Hopefully she'd be able to mend that fence. She'd make things right for everyone that she had hurt.


	19. Volume 03: Issue 05

**AN: Just a reminder reviews really help me out, so thank you if you take the time to review.**

* * *

It had been weeks since Charlie had fired her, which was why she hadn't stepped into Prometheus. Kurt had been kind enough—though she suspected he had done it with a gleeful smile on his face, sent over her things. There hadn't been much, just a jacket that she had forgotten and a few bubbleheads that she had bought to piss Kurt off. Which was why it felt a bit weird coming back. Normally Prometheus ex-employees, were not allowed into the building without an escort from security and a supervisor nearby. She didn't truly want to be treated like a criminal, but those were the rules.

She sighs as she heads towards the front desk and pushes a smile to her face. "Hey Janice I was here to see—"

"Santana! It's good to see you again. Kurt already called ahead and told me to prepare a visitor's pass for you. Oh and congratulations on the new job!"

Santana blinks taking the pass, so clearly there was perks in being friends with Charlie. "Uh—thanks," she says after a moment looking at her. "What's the catch? Kurt's never nice to me _ever_."

Janice smiled, "From what I understand, she misses having you around. All I know is that she is complaining that her new bodyguard is incompetent. I think Kurt thinks that your presence will cheer her up."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Of course, well I'll see what I can do. Don't want her making a death ray because she's bored."

"Oh she wouldn't do that," Janice laughed.

Santana merely smiled in response, she was sure that Charlie wouldn't create a death ray and start _murdering_ innocent people. She was starting to get the idea that Charlie would create a death ray because she was bored, and it seemed like something that she would do. "Just kidding," she says. "I'll just head up to see Sebastian and then I'll head up to the top floor and see her."

"That would be excellent." Janice said waving her towards the elevators.

Santana smiled and headed towards the elevator, hitting the floor number that lead to the legal department. She didn't even _like_ Sebastian but he had called her and bluntly informed her that she needed to come in today. Which probably meant that she'd have to hear him bitching about the terribly small office that he'd been stuck with. The door opens and she pauses slightly, as she stares at the rush of people moving about.

It's like a warzone and she immediately sidesteps to avoid someone who seemed to be reading a large document.

"Santana!"

She turns toward the voice, unsurprised to see that Sebastian seemed to have angled himself into a bigger office. She slips past a couple of people who seem to be trying to manage the chaos around them and slides into Sebastian's office. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah." Sebastian gestures to a stack of papers without looking up. He's looking through various files, sorting papers frantically. "Your divorce papers have been signed and delivered to the Court. By this time tomorrow, you should be single once again."

"What—wait, _really_?" She sputters. She had expected some other delay, some excuse from Quinn about how she needed more time. She didn't expect Sebastian to be calling her here to say that it's _over_.

"Yes, now I'm busy. So go away."

"What's going on?"

That makes Sebastian put down his case files with an irritated huff. "What's _going on_ is that the entire system has crashed. No one in the company knows if it's just a power issue, or if it's that we've been _hacked_."

"Hacked? You can't be serious."

"Some asshole probably opened up an email about making his dick bigger with pills. Probably how they got in, or something. I don't know, I doubt it though. No way the boss would let it happen and apparently we've got a rather competent IT setup. Though I will admit something weird has been going on with the computers for days now. Flickering and the like, but until we get it sorted out everyone here is in a panic because we've got several important cases coming up and all the pertinent information is on the computer. Good thing all I do is divorce work."

Santana nods, it was none of her business anymore. "Well if anyone can fix it or whatever, Charlie can. Probably—I mean I didn't know she was huge on the whole computer front and I was sure I heard someone mentioning a _closed_ system before so or something—"

"Santana—I don't know jackshit about computers, I call the fucking IT guy." Sebastian snapped, cutting her off. He had lost a few files himself and was desperately trying to get them back. "So if you don't mind, I really don't have time for chit-chat."

"Fine. Have fun with that." She sighed. Apparently Charlie was going to be in an awful mood, so she might as well get it over with. She sighs and heads to the elevators again, she didn't have time to go over the documents in her hands. She was going to be single again? What did that mean? She was going to have to go on some shitty dates, and try and impress people who didn't know her. It sounded exhausting.

She frowns slightly as she gets onto the elevator. She should feel _something_ though, sadness, anger, some other emotion other than _relief_ , and guilt over the fact that she felt relieved. How she felt about Quinn was complicated. She had loved Quinn, but the idea that Quinn had slept with Rachel someone who was supposed to be _their_ friend, disgusted her and it cut her deeper than before. She had always wondered about their relationship, but she had ignored it deciding to trust in Quinn. That had _clearly_ been a mistake.

"How the _hell_ can you be smiling Charlie!" Kurt's voice cuts through her thoughts as the door to the executive floor opens up.

"How can you not!" Charlie laughs crossing her legs, typing furiously on her computer, and pointing at one of the IT guys who had been attempting to hook up another monitor for Charlie. "Don't fuck this up Steve. I don't have time for you to fuck this up, do you know how difficult it is to write programs that should do the trick while also trying to reboot and analyze my systems? Fucking impossible, but I'm doing it." Charlie snaps at him. "When I find this person they're going to be the new head of my _fucking_ IT department."

"Charlie! We deal with sensitive information what if this is Russia or the Chinese—"

"Or neither, not like they haven't tried before. The system is protected, which is why this isn't a—oh hey Santana! Come on in! Join the fun!" Charlie said in a cheery tone.

Santana poked her head into Charlie's office blinking, she had never seen Charlie like this, with her sleeves rolled up and her hair out of place, but it was the grin. The huge grin on her face that made Santana hesitate for a moment. She had never seen Charlie look _happy_. Like truly happy, before. Sure there were smirks and sardonic smiles. She looked amused but never this happy before. "What are you doing? In simple terms not—nerdy computer terms, that you know I can't understand."

Charlie didn't seem offended by the statement ignoring the looks that a few of her IT guys sent her. "It's an active brute force attack, and this person seems to know my system like the back of their hand. It's going to be one hell of an expensive fix and it means I'm going to have to divert a quarter of my attention fixing it."

Santana rolls her eyes, "Shouldn't you be focusing on what you're doing?"

"Thank you," Kurt sniffs indignantly. Charlie slammed her finger against the enter key, and cracked her knuckles. Almost immediately there's a flash on the screen and the machine. Kurt glances down at his tablet and frowns because it had done the same thing as well. "What did you do?"

"I shut it off. Everything off." Charlie mused crossing her legs and sitting back. "They were trying to access my personal files. You know what I keep in those files, I mean they'd never get into it, the level of encryption is beyond anything the US government is capable off." Charlie frowned. She'd take a closer look later, something was off, no one could break past her encryption but it seemed as if they were gunning for something else. "Still it was better to kill the system then to—"

"Have you lost your mind? You deleted everything?" Kurt interrupts.

"No. Everything is still where it is. I just shut everything down. I need to go down to the servers and _we_ need to start checking them one by one. It'll probably take all night. These guys are all going to be working overtime." Charlie gets up and stretches before looking over at Santana. "So, I was under the impression that you never wanted to step foot in Prometheus again."

Santana rubbed the back of her neck. "Quinn signed the papers."

Charlie raised a brow at this. "So you're single. This is cause for celebration; Kurt can set you up a date with someone from my—"

"No." Santana interrupts. "I mean my marriage is over, and apart from the end it was a semi-decent marriage. I think I just need some time."

Charlie studies her for a moment, before turning around and opening up a box on the mantle behind her and placing a bottle on her desk. "It was a present." Charlie motions to the bottle of whiskey, that is half filled on the table. "It probably won't make you feel better but I do know that it will certainly numb whatever you're feeling. Now, I have to go clean up my servers, so I'll see you when I see you?"

Santana waves her off, it was a nice gesture but she wasn't sure whiskey that was worth _thousands_ of dollars was going to make what she was feeling anymore clear. She had an idea what would help her sort through the emotional mess that plagued her, but it didn't seem wise to go there right now. Then again, she needed to move on with her life and she had put it off for long enough.

~O~

Santana stared at the house that had _once_ been her life. She could remember when they had first bought this place, they had been so filled with hope about how the future would pan out. About maybe having kids, about this maybe being their forever home. It was sappy, but at the time she had been in love. Sure things with Quinn weren't always easy but she had thought that they would make it work. That's what you were supposed to do in a relationship, but what Quinn had done—it had wrecked them. She walks up the ramp carefully and rings the doorbell, she didn't quite know what she expected Quinn to say or do.

The door swings open and Rachel takes a step back at the instantaneous heat that began to come of her former friend in _waves_. "Santana?" Rachel swallows and takes a step forward, even though she knew that it was a stupid idea. "What are you doing here?"

Santana resisted the urge to lash out at Rachel's face, there was a smugness there she was sure of it. But that would be the end of her new career, and she _liked_ her new job. "I'm here to see Quinn."

"Now you're ready to see Quinn? After you've spent the past few months ignoring her? While she—"

"Rachel, just let her in," Quinn spoke up interrupting what would have been Rachel's long spiel about how horrible Santana was.

Santana flashed Rachel a pleased smirk and pushes past her roughly, stopping only long enough to make sure that she threw in one more verbal sucker punch. "Nice to see that you've made yourself comfortable after I did most of the work," Santana sneers before moving on to see Quinn. It was petty she knew it was but Rachel being there hurt. Like she had been replaced by a poor imitation. Santana entered the living room and watched as Quinn pushed herself up to greet her. "Charlie actually _fixed_ your legs?"

"I don't know why you sound surprised, you were there."

Santana shrugs, "Charlie does a lot of things, knowing her and how she felt about you I could see her making it temporary, so she could fuck with you." It was definitely something that Charlie would do. But Charlie also had very low tolerance for people whining and bitching at her about their problems. Which made her wonder why Charlie even kept her around, or Kurt for that matter.

Quinn nods, "That's what I thought too—that she was doing this to fuck with me but she said she wasn't. She was personally more concerned with the FDA, and possibly the stock price of her company which went up after the interview."

"Well, she did invent something that will help millions of disabled people around the world. Everyone wants to get their hands on it. Clinical trials have already begun—but I'm not here to talk about Charlie."

"I figured but before you go on, I think you should know I already gave her my blessing."

Santana blinked. "What? You think—fuck there's nothing going on between us."

"Of course there's not. She said something very similar." Quinn scoffs. She meant for it to come out as some zen-like statement, but there's a biting undercurrent that she couldn't help. "Why are you here Santana? I thought you made it very clear you didn't want anything to do with me."

Santana was quiet for a moment, as she struggled to find the correct words to get out how she felt. Maybe she should have written a letter or something equally lame. "I just want to know _why_?"

"Why what?"

"Don't play dumb, Quinn, it's an insult to the both of us." Santana snaps. "Why did you give up on us? I gave you _everything_ and you fucked _Rachel_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel frowns, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. Santana had _abandoned_ Quinn when Quinn needed her most. If Santana couldn't see that people made mistakes, then Rachel wasn't going to feel guilty for being there for Quinn. Even if they hadn't really decided what they were, she knew things were done with Finn.

"Shut up pipsqueak." Santana barks, staring her ex-wife down.

"I don't know." Quinn admits honestly. "I don't know what to tell you. I wasn't happy, and that's not an excuse, but it's true. Rachel and I, we had a connection and—I felt like I just got lost."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"It's _true_. I felt like everything was slipping through my fingers. We were supposed to be heroes, _famous_ heroes, and yet all we could afford was this crummy apartment."

"And that's supposed to be my fault?"

"No! No. I screwed up. I fucked up. There's a lot of things I wish we had talked about. All of this—it's all on me. And if I thought you could ever forgive me, I would have fought for us. But you—you deserve the chance to be happy."

Santana clenched her fist tightly, ignoring the fact that smoke began to come off her body, "I was happy with you, I was happy with our dinky little apartment in this dinky little brownstone. I was fucking happy coming back to you every night and going out patrolling with you. I was there for you when you were in the hospital, I helped make sure that this place was wheelchair accessible for you, because I fucking _loved_ you. I mean I could understand if you had done it after the accident, hell things were rough for both of us but this? With her? The lying? You could have just told me! Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well you did a shitty job at that, didn't you?" Santana snaps, "Did you ever even love me?"

"Santana—"

"You know what, this was a mistake. I'm not even sure what I want you to say." Santana rubs her brow tiredly. "I should go—thanks for signing the divorce papers. Enjoy the hobbit." Santana spits the last part out and wheels around. She had never been so grateful for the alcohol that Charlie had provided, maybe she could stop at a corner store and get some more. Or a bar, one that served super's they had the best fucking booze there. It hurt and Charlie was right, alcohol might not make her feel better about her life, but it was certainly going to help numb the pain that she felt.

~O~

It took a lot for her to get drunk. Part of that was that if she 'flamed up' she would burn off all the alcohol in her system. Drinking during the day had lost almost all of its appeal for that very reason. Thankfully, there was a dark bar around the corner from her former apartment that catered to supers with no questions asked and higher proofs.

How she had made it from there to Charlie's upscale penthouse apartment was a blur. Maybe there had been a taxi, maybe she had taken an Uber, all she knew was that she had fumbled with the keys and the number pad before giving up and just sitting down to wait for Charlie. She didn't know why she was even there, Charlie wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type. But at this point she was the only friend that she had—the only friend that she trusted completely.

She wasn't sure how much time passed but she was pretty sure she had fallen asleep because the next thing she knew was that Charlie was standing over her with a wry smirk on her face. "Charlie, _hey_." She held out the last word just a little too long. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey. I live here, at least for the time being. Dare I ask what you're doing at my door at three o'clock in the morning?"

Santana struggled to her feet. "I couldn't get in."

"That is the point of locking doors," Charlie pointed out as she gripped Santana's arm to help her up. "I suppose you can stay the night, on the couch of course. You know your usual place," Charlie smirks at this.

Santana lets Charlie lead her gently inside. "I just—she _sucks_ ; you know?"

"Can't say that I do."

"I don't know why she did it." Santana rambles, her words slurring as she hiccups. "With Rachel? Why with Rachel—is she hotter than me? I mean she's short and she's got no fashion sense and she talks to much and to loudly and she thinks she's hot shit—she can't be better than me."

There was a desperate note in her voice that made Charlie sigh as she opened the door to her apartment. "Of course not. Quinn is simply Quinn and you shouldn't beat yourself up about this. Statistically your relationship was probably going to fail anyway. Most marriages do. Love is just a chemical reaction that compels us to breed for the most part." Charlie points out.

Santana stares at her blankly, not completely understanding what Charlie was getting at. "So, I'm unlovable?"

"What?" Charlie shakes her head. How did she manage to get that out of— "No, of course that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that love is simply a series of chemical and electrical signals in the brain that has diminishing returns, over time. It's like a drug, you build up a tolerance for it. Quinn's always been Quinn. She doesn't appreciate the good things—" Charlie blinks when Santana interrupts her pressing her lips against hers. The action is enough to get her to raise an eyebrow. She doesn't quite shove Santana away forcefully, instead wondering what her next move should be.

She doesn't quite seem to notice that Charlie's not responding to her advances at all, and she reaches for Charlie's body, grabbing her breast and groping it clumsily. "It's okay—Quinn said so," she whispers like it's some big secret.

The statement is enough to get Charlie to move into action as she rolls her eyes and grips Santana's wrist. Using her momentum to swing Santana onto the couch. "Sorry, but you're far too drunk for this to be a good idea. I can hear Kurt bitching at me already." She adds for good measure.

Santana tries to stand back up only to be pushed back down by Charlie, and leans back on the couch. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about being rebuffed by Charlie. "Can you at least stay? I don't want to be alone."

Charlie eyes dart over Santana carefully for a moment. "Okay. But if you vomit on me I'm leaving."

Santana shifts clumsily on the couch and Charlie takes a seat beside her. It only takes a moment before her head finds Charlie shoulders. "I thought we were going to be forever."

"I know the feeling." Charlie says after a moment, turning to look at Santana and rolling her eyes when she realizes that Santana is asleep. She laughs to herself. "Figures."


	20. Volume 03: Issue 06

Santana groans as a clicking sound assaults her ears. She's got a slight hangover, which is a mercy considering how much she drank last night, but the clicking might as well be a jackhammer for how quickly it brings her back to consciousness. She cracks one eye open and frowns when she sees Charlie on the armchair across from her, frantically typing away. "What are you doing?"

Charlie barely looks up from what she's doing switching her computer into a tablet and picking up a pen so she can write what she wants to. "Trying to solve the world's garbage problem. I've been meaning to do this for years, it's absolutely disgusting that there is an island of garbage somewhere in the pacific. I was thinking of creating a box that has an infinite amount of space on the inside. Unfortunately, I ran into some problems when it came to—"

Santana groaned, "Never mind. I don't know why I ask. Why are you in my apartment?"

Charlie pauses for a moment before going back to writing on her tablet. "I see; you don't remember last night. I'm unsure if I should be offended or not. Though, you should note that your body temperature changes quite frequently during the night. I imagine it happens unconsciously as you enter and leave various stages of sleep. It's an interesting phenomenon one you should be aware of, in case you choose to have sex soon, or sleep in someone's wooden bed. I hear being burnt to death is an exceptionally painful way to go."

Santana groans and leans back against the couch, before she looks over at Charlie warily. "Wait, last night? What did I do?"

"Well for starters I found you passed out in front of my door because you couldn't figure out how to make the lock work. Apparently muscle memory doesn't extend into breaking into my apartment."

Santana exhaled, that didn't sound nearly as bad as she thought it was going to be. "Well thanks for—"

"Then you asked me questions about my sister choosing Rachel over you. As I was trying to explain to you that love is merely a chemical reaction that encourages breeding, you were overcome by your emotions and thought it was an intelligent idea to kiss and grope me. I'm going to chalk up the fact that you were terrible at both due to the alcohol running through your system."

"Oh fuck. Of course I did." Santana pauses and turns to Charlie once more. "Did you say that I kissed you and then—"

"Yes." Charlie responded going back to her work, she wondered if Santana had actually caught the insult. She wasn't going to repeat it though. She seemed to be in some sort of panic attack. She personally believed it was just best to wait it out.

"Shit—fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Santana chanted as she hopped off the couch. She grimaced as her stomach flipped and her muscles and head protested the sharp movement. Charlie had said it flatly, and had insulted her skills as a lover, something she was simply going to ignore. She didn't know why Charlie wasn't freaking out herself. She had crossed the line and worst of all Quinn probably thought that she was _right_. Charlie had said it so flatly she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"I thought about it for a few moments, my brain runs a few hundred scenarios at the same time. I imagine I was simply a stand in for Quinn. Which I find offensive, I am not Quinn. Then I wondered if you had latent feelings for me, so if you do I imagine it's pertinent to note, that you should bury those feelings."

"I _know_ you're not Quinn." Santana snaps, throwing the throw blanket off her and jumps to her feet. "And whatever, I was drunk so it wasn't anything anyway. But could you think for a _second_ that _maybe_ you're one of my best friends—fuck, Charlie, you're the only friend I have right now."

Charlie raises a brow at this statement and looks at Santana crinkling her nose, "That's sort of worrying, and pathetic."

Santana rolled her eyes, "You're one to talk. I don't see you having any close friends that don't work for you and thus have to be nice to you."

"Brittany's my friend." One that was currently wrapped up in her relationship with the toy-maker. She was not exactly thrilled with this, but Brittany was still her friend. At least she hoped she was.

"I haven't seen Brittany around either. Admit it, I'm the only person you have right now."

"I will do nothing of the sort. The difference between you and I is that I'm perfectly fine being by myself." It was something that she had needed to get used to. Something that seemed to be a constant in her life. Though if she was right she wouldn't be alone for much longer.

"Bullshit, otherwise you would have changed the locks ages ago. Admit it you enjoy my company."

Charlie rolled her eyes, Santana wasn't going to let this go. She had that look on her face, and there was something in her voice that suggested that she needed some sort of affirmation. Maybe she was simply imagining it. But she did understand that sometimes being alone sucked. "When you're not destroying my things and eating my food, your company is _tolerable_."

Santana smirks, it's as close as Charlie is going to come to admitting that they were friends, and she'd take it for now. "As for the second part, you know me well enough to know that I wouldn't do anything of the sort. I mean apart from our narcissism, your massive ego, and your sociopathic tendencies you're not a terrible person. I mean you haven't built a death ray in your spare time."

"I have." Charlie responds and shrugs. "Well, perhaps you'd call it a death ray."

Santana laughed, "Of course you have, why should I be surprised."

"Don't worry I don't plan on taking over Australia with it, I don't think I could. It was during a dark moment and I made it in a rush. I'm better now, more or less." Charlie informs her bluntly. She decides to move on before Santana could ask more questions. "As for you falling in love with me, it's a perfectly natural response. I am intelligent, I am wealthy, I have a fantastic ass, and I am an excellent lover. Many women have fallen in love with me due to my many charms. It's to be expected."

Santana snorts at that. "Expected. _Right_."

Charlie doesn't seem to notice Santana's dismissal, "At the same time, all those things you stated are true. Which is why loving me is generally a terrible idea. There was only one person who could do it and she's dead, and truthfully as I sit here, I'm not sure if even Elaine could have done it. Though things were different back then. I was different back then." She muses mostly to herself. "The point I was trying to make is simple Santana, don't fall in love with me. Sex is something that I don't mind having with you. But feelings is something I don't do and seem incapable of. Though given how you are recently single, I would personally suggest waiting before jumping into anything with anybody."

"Well thanks for the advice, I'll give it as much consideration as I paid for it."

"But you didn't pay me anything—oh!" Charlie laughs. "That's fair. I guess I deserved that."

Santana nods, "Now how about you buy me breakfast at some greasy diner to help me get over my hangover. And please don't inform me that it doesn't actually help because of some biochemical process in the body."

Charlie doesn't move, "I'm not buying you breakfast, I let you sleep in my apartment, the least you could do is buy me breakfast."

"You're a billionaire. I'm sure you can spring for a couple of pancakes."

"With how much _you_ can eat? You'd bankrupt me in a month." Charlie grumbles but stands. Breakfast didn't seem like such a bad idea. "You have a decent paying job; I promise not to order something that's covered in gold flakes."

Santana rolled her eyes, "That sounds _revolting_ , why would you eat something covered in gold flakes other than to prove that you're a rich douchebag who can?"

" _I am_ a rich douchebag who can," Charlie reminds her smirking when Santana shoves her playfully. "You're still paying for breakfast."

Santana rolls her eyes, "Fine, since you're such a cheap-ass."

"How do you think I keep my wealth?" Charlie shoots back.

~O~

"You're late."

Charlie glanced up at Kurt, from where she was walking towards her office. "I know. I think that's to be expected considering that I kept every last IT guy here till three am, I told them that they could have the morning off. They'll still get paid for the time of course and make sure their overtime is approved."

"You don't sleep, and you haven't had a lover in months, so don't you dare try and put the blame there," Kurt informed her. He narrows his eyes slightly as he studies her. "Charlie your company is under attack and the board is worried about your reaction and your crazy idea to _hire_ the person that committed the attack."

"Of course I do. The person who managed to hack _my_ systems is at least in my league of intelligence, and it makes sense that I would want to hire them. Prometheus only survives _if_ the best and brightest people are working for us. It doesn't matter if they're a criminal, it doesn't matter what they look like, or whatever issues that they might have. The best and the brightest, something that has been sorely missing these days."

"I understand that you're _bored_ , but this is important. We've managed to keep quiet about this but in case you don't understand the importance of this. They could have gotten their hands on the Aegis armor—or your new Nano-tech. Both which you admit can be _devastating_ in the wrong hands. God knows whatever else you've been working on—we have military contracts Charlie. These are _classified_ —"

"I know that."

"Do you? Because you seem far more concerned with entertaining yourself than staving off a cyber-threat." Kurt snapped.

Charlie frowned, he was forgetting his place yet again. "There is someone in this world who is _just_ as smart as me, maybe even smarter. Do you know what that means for someone like me? Of course you don't because you're surrounded with people who are _just like you_. People who are of average intelligence, that are not curious, they do not see the world as I see it. So yes, Kurt. I want to meet this person who is just like me. Who might even be better and smarter than me."

Kurt swallows, he had already put her in a mood but he wasn't going to back down. His job was making sure that Charlie's life ran smoothly, he made compromises with the board over her eccentricities. But Prometheus was on the brink right now, someone had broken into their secure systems. Charlie didn't have time to be giddy over finding another playmate. She _needed_ to lead the company through this tough time. "I understand but you built Prometheus for a purpose, in memory of someone who was important to you." He felt guilty using the emotional manipulation, he truly did but he knew her buttons. "And now someone is _threatening it_ and you're simply _okay_ with that?"

"I don't appreciate your attempts to manipulate my emotions." Charlie snaps at him before running a hand through her hair. If there was anyone else as capable as Kurt, she would have probably fired him by now. But training another secretary was the bane of her existence. Dave was a terrible bodyguard, but at least he could look semi-intimidating.

"I'm not trying to manipulate you; I'm trying to make you see _reason_. Charlie this is serious—"

"I _know_. But complaining about it isn't going to make any difference. We had a breach, it's taken care of for now and _now_ I need to write a comprehensive security patch. But the _most_ intriguing part of this is that someone was able to get as far as they did. That should be something that at the very least causes you some sort of intrigue Kurt." Charlie waved her hand dismissing him. "Keep my morning clear and when the IT department finally comes in, send them up."

Kurt sighed, one of these days he was going to quit, it wasn't worth the abuse that he put up with. Even though he had known it was part of the job when he had taken it. Managing the storm that was Charlie's emotional state which changed daily these days was something that he had signed up for. Whenever Charlie finally figured out time-travel he was going to go back in time and inform his younger self to avoid this job like the plague.

~O~

Charlie rubbed her eyes as she stared at the screen in front of her, feeling the eye strain. At least Prometheus was up and running again, even though she had been forced to block access to the internet. It would be like that for the next few days while she finished writing the patch, and started making sure it was compatible with her new system.

She stretches feeling her joints crack and pop with the action. The itch at the back of her brain was back and she didn't like the fact that she was missing something. It was probably due to the lack of sleep, but she didn't have time to simply fuck around. And she hadn't had the desire in a while, it was troubling, but perhaps the recent revelation to the world had caused a change in her priorities.

The door to her office is pushed open and she looks up to see Santana grinning as she holds up a brown paper bag, that seems to be dripping with grease a pleased smile on her face. "I found the best place for burgers in town. I fucking promise they're the best thing you will ever put into your mouth."

Charlie eyes the grease stains critically her stomach rumbling at the smell that fills her office and she glances at the time. It was after seven, she'd been at this all day., "I imagine it seems like that because it will probably be the last thing I put in my mouth." Charlie points out. "Heart disease is a thing that I do _not_ have a cure for." She motions for Santana to sit down. "Did Kurt send for you?"

"He's worried," Santana shrugs. "But you know how much it pains him to have to call me to cheer you up," Santana reminds her, pushing a bag towards her. "Besides my training sessions were finished early today, so I figured I could stop by and steal some of your expensive shit."

Charlie rolls her eyes but snatches the bag out of Santana's hand eagerly, "If you want to make yourself useful, go pester Sam and the entire team working on the Aegis. You know they keep making suggestions that I should hire you, because your replacement isn't as good."

Santana snorts, "That's because you're cheap and the vast majority of people think you're a super villain, I mean you did build a death ray."

"It wasn't exactly a _death_ ray; I don't even know what that is to be honest. It was a laser that simply—never mind." Charlie frowns and glances out towards where Kurt was packing up ready to go home for the day. "You didn't have to come, I have to write a security patch, I'll be at the office for the next few days—"

"I don't mind. It's either I bother you or go home to an empty apartment, where I am forced to think about my life choices."

"Or call your parents and tell them that you're divorced."

Santana frowned at the statement. "I'll tell them, when they start calling me to invite me to Thanksgiving or Christmas."

"That's five months away, you should call your mother more." Charlie says flatly.

"When was the last time you called your parents."

"I don't talk to my parents because they are leeches, and they were terrible parents. Your parents actually _love_ you, and they care about you personally. I paid my parents fifty thousand dollars every month to leave me alone."

Santana raises a brow at this, "Money doesn't solve all your problems you know."

"You're right. Just most of them." Charlie said picking up a fry and turning back to her computer. "I'm paying a fine to the FDA to get them to forget about criminal charges. They aren't stupid. My lawyers and PR firm would tear them into shreds publicly and it's an open secret that I have my sights set on the White House."

Santana shook her head, "That's not a _good_ thing you know. You're the one that talked about the two-tier system of justice."

"Are we getting into an ethical debate? I did what Quinn asked me to do, I just didn't file the paperwork yet. The FDA is just annoyed I didn't spend millions upon billions of dollars going through their bureaucratic process. My product will help people, for now _rich_ people who can afford the treatment, but my team is trying to figure out how to make the process cheaper."

Santana rolled her eyes, "You know what people hate most about politicians? They never give you a straight answer. What does that have to do with the issue that you're a part of the mythical top one percent of the top one percent, and you use your money to buy your way out of trouble. All the time."

Charlie pauses for a moment and then smiled. "You want me to admit that I can probably get away with everything up to murder, and even then I could probably get away with murder if it wasn't caught on video, which my lawyers would probably have dismissed because of some technicality? I thought it went without saying. But I also don't think that the system is fair. I should be held accountable but no one is stupid enough to throw me in jail. There isn't a jail that could hold me, and if I'm not a super villain now, people certainly don't want me going all Darth Vader on them."

Santana made a face, "Stop. It's not like you're going to betray the Jedi way by slaughtering a room full of younglings."

"You're such a nerd." Charlie teases.

"Right, I'm the nerd because I watched the Star Wars movies a few times—holy shit I just realized I'm talking to the smartest person on the planet and I haven't asked them to make me a lightsaber."

"A what now—you mean those ridiculous laser swords?"

"How do you not know what a lightsaber is? Haven't you seen the movies?"

"I don't watch movies," Charlie replies. "At least not anymore."

Santana's eyes widen at this, "Well how do you expect to win the election if you don't know your pop culture references? You're going to be the youngest candidate _ever_. How do you expect the young people to come out and vote for you?"

"I don't see what this has anything to do with—" Charlie frowned as her cellphone vibrated on her table vibrates and she looks at it. The frown on her face deepening as she read the text message. "Excuse me for a moment, there is something I need to deal with at the front desk."

"Take your time. I'm going to draw out the lightsaber I want" Santana said grabbing one of Charlie's space pens and tearing of a piece of the brown paper bag.

"Your drawing is atrocious."

But Santana doesn't pay her any mind, sticking out her tongue so she can get it right as she concentrates.

Charlie stares at her for a moment before shaking her head and heading towards the elevator. She quickly buttons up her shirt and unrolls her sleeves, trying to look as professional as possible. She needed the upper hand in this. She runs a hand through her hair as she walks out of the elevator and towards the front desk. "Quinn. This is becoming a habit and I'm swear I promised to call the police the next time you trespassed."

Quinn blinked, she hadn't expected to see her twin today all she had wanted to do was drop off the damn laptop and be on her way. "I know. I'm here to return the laptop you left when you walked out on lunch. I didn't open it, I didn't try and crack my way into it. I'm just returning it as a good faith gesture."

Charlie looks at the laptop that's on the desk and studies it for a moment. "I see." She reaches for the laptop and slips it under her arm. She was going to fire Dave and the rest of her damn bodyguards for not doing their damn job. She'd ask Santana if she knew anyone who would do a better job. Maybe she should hire some secret service type agents. "Why are you still in that chair? You're making me look back when I know you can walk, the more you use it as a crutch the longer it will take you for you to get your life back. Don't think that this is some helpful life advice. You're making _me_ look bad."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm so glad that my recovery has become about you."

Charlie shrugs, "I'm making a point. The next time you show up uninvited, it had better be without the damn chair, or I will call the police. Now that this conversation is done get the _hell_ out of my building." With that she turned on her heels and headed back to the elevator.

"You're welcome!" Quinn calls out, not knowing why she had expected gratitude.

"I didn't say thank you," Charlie responds as she enters the elevator and turns around pushing the button back to her floor. Her eyes lock on Quinn's for a moment before the doors slide closed. It was getting harder and harder to keep up her hatred for her twin. Something had changed and she wasn't sure what it was. Charlie looked at the laptop for a moment, Quinn had said that she hadn't used it. So why was her damn brain itching again?


	21. Volume 03: Issue 07

Quinn stared at the screen in front of her, the blinking cursor tempting her to write down all of her thoughts. She had always been something of a writer and even if she was never going to be a journalist again, writing was always the best way for her to organize her thoughts. Sometimes she would just free-write, jotting down the first thing that came to mind in a blubber of words and phrases that often didn't make any sense. But always, _eventually_ , she could manage to get her feet underneath her.

She hit the spacebar a couple of times, thinking. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea for her to write a book. Something non-fiction because she _definitely_ didn't want to cause any more suffering to the people around her. A memoir seemed like just asking for trouble. Though she could title it the _Evil_ _Twin_ , publishers would eat that shit up.

But something was blocking her, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was. She had even taken Charlie's advice and started to walk without the wheelchair as much as she could. She wasn't going to use it as a shield of sorts anymore. Truthfully it made her _tired_ but it did feel good in its own way.

Perhaps it had more to do with her apology tour, that she had went on. Like a recovering alcoholic apologizing to everyone that they had wronged, she had no idea what step it was but wasn't that supposed to be an unburdening of sorts. But she didn't feel any less guilty. Nor had anyone forgiven her. Maybe her relationship with Charlie wasn't as _terrible_ as it had been a year ago, but she had a feeling Charlie probably had no qualms in leaving her to rot and fester in her own misery. Her relationship with her parents wasn't any better. Then there was her relationship with Santana.

When did she become such a fuck up?

She blows out a breath and hits the delete key, erasing the errant spaces she's entered. She had to do _something_. She couldn't keep waiting for the next shoe to drop. Feeling a spark of curiosity, she pulled up a web page and searched for Santana's new address. She had apologized, sure, but she needed to make things _right_ with Santana.

How could she ever forgive herself if Santana couldn't forgive her either?

Maybe it was selfish. Or maybe it was selfless. Fuck, she wasn't sure she knew the difference anymore.

But before she could really debate the pros and cons of this choice, the address came up in front of her like it wasn't the most critical piece of information she could ever find. She frowns and stares at it for a second. The address that had been given was downtown in one of the apartments that she shouldn't be able to afford, even with a Prometheus salary. Charlie's fingerprints seemed to be all over this and she had to wonder if Santana should be a bit more careful with the address.

She shakes her head, refusing to allow herself to be distracted by ridiculous faults. It was quite possible that Santana didn't give a shit about who could find her, she could certainly hold her own in a fight. But showing up at her address probably wouldn't cause Santana to open up to her and it would put her on edge. It wasn't as if Santana was hanging out in her old stomping grounds either.

Maybe she should call and leave a message. Suggest that they meet somewhere neutral. It did seem to be the most sensible thing. She sighs and picks up her cellphone, chewing on the inside of her lip. She would send Santana a text, an email and simply make the call. It gave her three opportunities to get Santana's attention even though there was no guarantee that Santana would show up.

She swallows listening to the phone ring for a few moments, before going to voicemail. She waits patiently for the beep. "Hey, can we talk? I think we need to talk. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry and I think we need to have a conversation. So if you could meet me at—" Quinn paused she hadn't thought this through. "If you could meet me at the Spotlight diner tonight? You know where we had our first jobs when we moved to the city. I'll be in the back booth from six until they close. I hope—I hope to see you there." She frowns slightly and ends the call. It was nostalgic in a sense; it had been when they were at their happiest even as they struggled to pay the bills together. But it had been them _together_.

Maybe, just maybe they can figure out some new semblance of normal.

~O~

She's just about ready to leave when Rachel bursts into her apartment. They haven't really talked about what any of this meant for them, but the idea of jumping into a relationship with Rachel made her stomach twist in knots. Maybe things could work out with them, maybe not. But it was still _too_ soon.

Rachel must have felt the same because she wasn't normally the type to avoid conversations.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"What am I—Quinn did you see the news? About WikiLeaks?"

"No. What happened?"

Rachel grins and tugs Quinn to the couch, pulling out her phone. "It's the biggest hack on Prometheus _ever_. We've done it Quinn; we're going to get enough to finally expose Charlie for the villain she is."

Quinn blinks at Rachel, not even looking at the data on the screen. She had never been a big supporter of the site, breaking the law to get information was still breaking the law. Though recent revelations should make her question how she felt about the organization as a whole. As a reporter she should be glad that she was getting her information from somewhere, and it certainly helped investigative reporting. "Rachel _please_ tell me you didn't have anything to do with this hack. Prometheus has several government contracts, the US government hates that type of shit and they will come after you with the full force of the law."

"I didn't have anything to do with the hack. You know I can barely use my computer at times," Rachel responds sweeping away that part of the conversation neatly. "But it's Charlie's emails for the past ten years. Apparently she's a bit of a pack rat when it comes to her emails. Hundreds of news organizations are combing through _years_ and pages of emails. It won't be long now till we find out all the dirty things she's done."

"Charlie is one of the smartest people on the planet, I'm sure she was not stupid enough to put a plan in her personal email, entitled ' _My plans for complete and total world domination_ '. What her emails will probably show is what an asshole she is to the general public, but that's common knowledge and it's something people already assume and know about my sister. How does this prove that she's unfit to be president? Or better yet how does this prove that she's a supervillain?"

Rachel opens her mouth and then closes it again, frowning. After a second, she shakes her head and stays the course. "It _will._ I'm sure of it. It will show how she's organizing forces against the public."

"Rachel, that's a _crazy_ conspiracy theory. I don't think my sister is a good honest decent person, but I also don't think she's a madman—not anymore. Once again my twin is smarter than that, Charlie does not have an army in her basement that she plans to use against the public. Even the _criminals_ that she hires into Prometheus are people who for the most part don't have violent criminal records, and we know exactly what their job is. There was a documentary about it and how Prometheus is going into the prisons and offering degrees and other business opportunities to these people. There hasn't been even one person that has gone back to their life of crime after that. We may not like it, but Charlie wasn't using that to build an army. She was making a point to help with the Registration act. Every action that Charlie's taken is moving her closer and closer to becoming the president and these leaks—aren't going to help. They might make her more sympathetic, it might be embarrassing for someone like her but Charlie is not even close to being on the ropes yet."

Rachel huffs, disappointed that Quinn doesn't see the value in this. "Do you always have to be such a pessimist? This could be _it._ "

"Or it could not be. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

"You're an investigative journalist, Quinn." Rachel looks at her, aghast. "When did you decide that _Charlie_ of all people could do no wrong?"

"Maybe when I realized that I was _not_ in any place to judge." Quinn snaps, shaking her head. "Look, I am late for an important meeting. Can we just—put this all on pause?"

" _Pause?_ Quinn, what is _wrong_ with you?"

"Rachel, I'm meeting Santana—"

 _"_ _What_? Why do you need to do that? She _divorced_ you Quinn. She _left._ Yeah, you may have made mistakes, but she wasn't totally innocent in this. She was distant and you were lonely—hell she was practically asking you to cheat."

"Stop." Quinn stands. "No. My mistakes were _mine_. And for Santana's faults? She never gave up on us. I did. And maybe that's because you and me— _one_ day can be something far greater than Santana and I ever could. But I can't just sit back and hope things will change. Please, tell me you understand that."

"I do." Rachel frowns, relenting as she pulls her phone back and tucks it in her pocket. "But I don't have to like it."

Quinn is quiet for a moment. "Look, I'm sure my sister has broken the law a few times. She's also not this paragon that people seem to make her out to be—but I don't think she's going to have an army march forward and take over the world forcibly. Taking over the world isn't illegal, there is no law that says you shouldn't take over the world. It's _how_ you go about doing it and I'm sure Charlie plans to do it within the bounds of the law. Just to prove that she could."

"I'm sure she uses that argument to justify what I can only imagine is going to be a dictatorial rule, where our freedoms will be stripped because she knows best." Rachel sighs dramatically.

"We have to trust that the system, judges and elected officials, and police officers can keep everything running without our interference."

Rachel groans. How could Quinn be so naive? But if Quinn couldn't make the hard choices, then Rachel was going to have to do it for her. She'd help Quinn however Quinn would let her. "Maybe you should make a blog about all of this? Supplement your income?"

"I don't want _any_ money coming in because of my twin. I just—I need to start over." Quinn says decisively. She just needs the chance to start over. But before she can do that, she has to get it right.

"Quinn—"

"I'm going to be late for my dinner—I don't even know if she's coming but I want to get there. Don't you have a show tonight? You should be out there practicing. I've read the reviews and they haven't been that great." Quinn interrupts, knowing that it was one of Rachel's weak spots. "Stop worrying about me. I can do this. I _need_ to do this."

Rachel bites back any retort she might have. She _did_ need to rehearse. "The reviews were misinformed."

"I know, but you want to win a Tony award and to do that you need to practice." Quinn assures, squeezing Rachel's wrist before standing. Now it was time to _really_ talk.

~O~

Quinn orders another drink, tapping her fingers nervously on the table in front of her. Maybe Santana wasn't coming. She's over an hour and a half late, and maybe Quinn was fooling herself.

"Look, it'll be a fun project that will take your mind off all this shit with your emails. I'll even be your Igor—"

Quinn looked up from where she was sitting, and stood up so she could see Santana entering the diner. She was talking on the phone, quite possibly to Charlie and she felt a pang—maybe it was of jealousy, perhaps it was of something else. She wasn't quite sure, but there was a pleased look on Santana's face as she listened.

"You're so lucky I don't work for you anymore, or I'd be forced to report you to Human Resources." Santana scoffs into the phone spotting her and heading towards the table. "Look, just you know make me one, I've seen some pretty cool colored ones so if you could do the same—wait—you'll do it?" A huge grin crosses Santana's face. "You're not shitting me? Because you know I know where you live and I won't let you do anything until you make it for me."

Quinn watches her for a minute. Was this how it always was supposed to be? Maybe she had just gotten in the way—

"Look, I don't have a lot of time." Santana slides into the booth across from Quinn, "So, use that brain of yours to figure out how to make it work, so I can make all the fanboys jealous." She listens for a moment and snorts. "Goodbye Charlie." She ends the call and turns her attention to Quinn, the smile on her face fading a bit. "So?"

"Hi."

"Is that all this is? Because I have better things to do than listen to your excuses—"

"Like get Charlie to build you a lightsaber?"

Santana smirks, clearly proud of herself. "Best idea I've ever had."

"Until you accidentally cut your hand off," Quinn mutters under her breath. She holds up her hands when Santana glares at her. "I didn't come here to judge your life."

"Good. Because if you were, I'd tell you that your roots are showing." Santana grumbles.

"I'm a natural blonde," Quinn snaps at her defensively.

"Sure you are," Santana crosses her arms over her chest. "Why are we here? I mean this place of all places? We're not getting back together if that's what you're trying to do."

"I'm not." Quinn assures. "I get it, we're over, but I just—I want to set things right."

Santana frowns, "I don't think there is anything to set right. You cheated on me. You broke our marriage vows, and then lied to me about it. You let me throw away my superhero career because you _needed_ to walk again. Something that from what I understand, you would have been able to do with time. I mean yeah, me and Charlie are cool now—and maybe it was a good thing that I went to work for her, but I did it under false pretenses."

"Your career isn't over, you're going to be one of the many new officers, the face of the new registration act. You're going to get millions of dollars' worth of sponsorships, and more importantly you're going to live the life that we always thought we were going to live together." Quinn frowns, that's not what she wanted to say. It wasn't going to fix anything. "And I'm happy for you."

"Are you?"

"I am. I mean it. I am happy for you." Quinn admits. "I don't have the answers you want, or even need Santana. I don't know why I did what I did with Rachel. I mean I could sit here and give you a bunch of bullshit reasons, that might be a little true but they'll just make me and you feel like shit. I think it all boils down to the fact that I lost myself. I lost who I was and who I wanted to be. I don't even know who the fuck I am anymore."

"You're still a bitch."

"So are you." Quinn retorts, smiling a little.

Santana doesn't take offense. It's true, "Maybe that's why we were never going to really work out."

"I should have tried harder."

"Yeah, you should have." Santana agrees. "Which is why it's odd that I still give a fuck about you. I mean I'm free. Why the fuck should I care what you do with your time and who you're with."

"I don't know. But I _do_ know that I care about who you spend your time with too." Quinn smiles. "I mean, I wish it was someone other than _Charlie_ , but I want you to be happy."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Whatever." After a minute, she cocks her head to the side. "How's the recovery coming?"

"Good. I'm trying not to overdo it and it's painful as hell, but I've regained almost complete full function."

"That's great, Quinn. Despite everything, I'm glad to hear that."

"Me too."

Santana chews the inside of her cheek before asking the question she _shouldn't_ care about. "How's work coming? Your disability payments must be ending soon. What are you going to do?"

Quinn shrugs, "I've got no idea. It's actually pretty liberating. For the first time, I'm just starting over. I might write a book; Rachel wants me to start a blog—"

"Blogs are for pussies." Santana grumbles, even though she doesn't really mean to shoot down Quinn's ideas. She offers a small smile, but Quinn shrugs.

"They are. But before I could really move on, I wanted to make things right between us."

"You don't have to—"

"I know, but I wanted to."

"But you don't _have_ to. Quinn, I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but we're divorced." She shakes her head incredulously. How the hell did she end up in this position? "Yeah, you fucked me over. But you're allowed to move on. Is that what you need from me? For me to give you permission to move on?"

"What? No! I just—"

"You _just_ want someone to tell you what to do. Or to tell you you're forgiven. Well guess what, Quinn? You're an adult. This is part of being a grown up. Nobody pats you on the back and congratulates you for not being a dick. You hurt me more than I thought I could ever be hurt. But if you need my permission— _do it._ Have a great life. Be happy. Because I sure as hell am going to be."

"Because you're getting a functional lightsaber?"

"Damn right."

Quinn bites her lip trying not to laugh, she was going to miss this more than anything. "Make sure you get her to make it a super cool color though. Not one of the basic ones, that everyone and their mother has but like something super cool looking."

Santana's grin widened for a moment, thinking of all the specialty ones that she had seen before. I'm trying to get her to make me Darth Maul's double sided saber—but we'll see. It's going to be fucking awesome."

"Of course it is." Quinn rolled her eyes. She sighs and studies Santana, "Does this—do you think this means that we can still be friends?"

Santana shrugs, "Maybe, in the distant future. But right now—I think I just need my space. I haven't even told my fucking parents that I'm divorced. And being near you means that I'll have to deal with Rachel and it's taking every last fiber of my being to not reign down unholy hell on her."

"And Charlie hates me—"

"I'm not dating your sister, I'm bullying her into making me some sci-fi stuff and then making her sit down and watch movies with me. You know she doesn't know any basic pop culture from the past decade?" Santana shrugs. "I'm working on me. Charlie's my friend—if you can call it that. But, the reason I don't want to see you has nothing to do with her. It has to do with the fact that we both need to move on and I don't want to be like one of those couples that continue to have sex and seem to be stuck on one another."

Quinn nods, it makes sense and they did seem to need their space. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, you're probably right about the whole we need our space from each other. You're probably right that we need to figure out who we are now that we're not Quinn and Santana—it's alphabetical we've had this discussion before," Quinn inserts quickly when Santana looks ready to argue about the placement of her name.

"Fuck the alphabet."

Quinn smiles, this hurt far more than she thought it would. There was a finality to everything that didn't make her feel good about herself. It was the end of an era, an era that could have been so great if she hadn't fucked it up. "Yeah. Fuck the alphabet."

Santana shrugs, "R comes before S anyway." She pauses for a moment. "You didn't have anything to do with the email leaks did you?"

"No. I swear to you I didn't." Quinn promises.

"Good, because Prometheus is coming for whoever was behind it. I just hope you weren't stupid enough to be the one to do it." Santana shrugs. She's not an employee of Prometheus anymore so she really shouldn't care. "I don't think Charlie hates you as much as she says she does. I think you can fix the relationship if you really put in the effort. And by effort I mean calling her every day and showing up uninvited to eat her food and drink her expensive booze."

"I think I'll leave that up to you, if Charlie and I ever do get to a good place, it's not because I'm getting under her skin."

"Your loss," Santana shrugs and moves to get up. "Look, I've got to go, I've got so much paperwork to do and I have a physical to get to. So I guess, I'll be seeing you?"

"Yeah. Hopefully you will." Quinn nods. This had gone better than she had expected. She could see the look that was in Santana's eye. She was in pain but hopefully this had soothed some of the hurt that was there. "Oh, and Santana?" Quinn calls out causing Santana to turn to her. "Please don't lose a hand or an eye. I don't think the pirate look is for you." Quinn can't help but laugh when Santana gives her the one finger salute before walking out of the Spotlight diner.

Things may be finally looking up. They certainly couldn't get any worse. Right?


	22. Volume 04: Issue 01

**AN: Okay, having another sounding board drive, I need people to bounce ideas off of. I also need people who have a thick skin, cause I'm a grumpy person half the time, and I will shoot down ideas. Which could be disheartening. I also need someone to be critical of me, I really don't want people to tell me my ideas are great if they aren't my ego is massive enough. I'm wrapping up a story and I could use another pair of eyes.**

 **Also if you like this story, then review. It's a good way for me to check on how popular a story is. Sure I can read the stats, see how many people are reading but reviews also help me out greatly.**

* * *

Santana groaned as she reached for her phone, which was currently ringing very close to her head. It wasn't exactly helping her pounding headache. She had already ignored it three separate times. "'Lo?" she mumbles after answering it. Apparently ignoring her phone wasn't going to stop the incessant ringing.

 _'Mija! I thought you were supposed to pick us up from the airport—I understand you're busy and all but—'_

"Papi! _Shit_ , what time is it?" Santana groans pulling her phone away from her ear so she can check the time. Her eyes widen, it was half-past ten. " _Shit_. My alarm didn't go off! I'm sorry Papi, hold on I can get you a ride to my apartment. Just give me a moment."

 _'It's okay Santana, we'll just grab a taxi and meet you at the brownstone, we just wanted to let you know that we arrived safely._ '

Santana immediately shot up, at that horror etched on her face. It had been nearly half a year since the papers were signed and she hadn't informed her parents that she had divorced from Quinn. She had been _meaning_ to, but admitting to her parents that her marriage had failed and she was divorced was not a conversation that she needed to have. That she _wanted_ to have. "I don't live in the Brownstone anymore Papi, I'll text you my new address."

' _You moved and you didn't tell us?_ '

She can practically hear her father's disapproval through the phone and rubs her eyes tiredly. "Yeah. I promise I'll explain everything. You know how busy I've been it must have slipped my mind. Now give me a moment, I'll send my address and I'll get us some breakfast. I'll see you soon Papi, and tell Mami I love her."

' _She wants to know what you did—_ '

"Bye Papi!" Santana says in a sing-song tone, hanging up. She quickly texts him the address to her apartment and makes a note to tell the security desk that her parents were coming. She was so _fucked_. In fact, _fucked_ didn't even begin to cover her current situation. She _knew_ she'd been living on borrowed time and her parents were now going to _murder_ her. Now she _needed_ to figure out what she was doing for _breakfast_.

Charlie pokes her head out from beneath the covers. "Quit talking. More sleeping." She grumbles. They had been at it for most of the night, and if she was a little more awake, Charlie would have been personally affronted that Santana could move, let alone was contemplating getting up. She was going to have to do better next time.

"Fuck, where are my pants? My _parents_ are coming." Santana groans as she slides off Charlie's bed and looks around frantically in the pile of haphazardly strewn clothing. As if it wasn't enough that she and Charlie had slept together _again_ , now she had to deal with her parents on top of it.

Charlie pushes herself up to rest on her elbows. "I'm guessing by your—" She waves her hand in a vague gesture, "—whatever you are right now, that this isn't a good thing?"

"No it's not a good thing. So get up and help me."

"I don't see how any of this is my problem."

"First, my parents have no idea that I divorced Quinn, nor that I'm living in the apartment below you." Santana grunts throwing some of the clothes. "And second, I was supposed to clean my apartment to be ready for them but _you_ got in the way. So this is definitely your fault."

"I hardly count orgasms as a bad thing, and you're an adult. You didn't _have_ to come over." Charlie defends.

Santana rolls her eyes. Charlie may insist on acting like an asshole most of the time, but she's not going to rise to the challenge. Somehow, she finds it weirdly endearing. "Fuck you."

"I believe you tried that. Several times."

"Then get up. I'm going to need your help. I've not only got to clean up but make something that will pass as breakfast."

Charlie frowns but finds herself sliding out of bed. Still, she's not about to let this go easily. "From what I remember, your parents didn't like Quinn at all."

"Exactly. They thought the sun shone out of your ass." Santana grumbles.

"Then why not—"

"Because I _really_ don't want to hear them say 'I told you so'." Santana retorts, running her hand through her hair in a vain attempt to tone down her sex hair. She didn't have time to shower, their apartments were strategically located to be less than an hour away from the airport.

Charlie pulls on her clothes, watching Santana out of the corner of her eye. Six months had changed a lot between them, even if neither of them could exactly define what their relationship was. They were friends, she guessed. Friends who sometimes had sex.

Did Santana want to be something more than that?

Charlie was almost scared of the answer. Not scared as in _afraid_ , but more like she was apprehensive. She frowns at her own reasoning and follows Santana down to her apartment. They spend more time in Charlie's apartment than at Santana's. In fact, Charlie can hardly remember a night when Santana slept at her own place. Maybe that should mean something.

Charlie isn't sure. "I still don't quite understand what you want me to do Santana, I'm not exactly a fan of cleaning up your messes. And in case you hadn't noticed, I don't _use_ my appliances, so I'm not exactly going to be any help in the kitchen."

"Charlie, you're the smartest person in the _world_ , do you mean to tell me that you can't figure out enough basic chemistry mixed with some biology to make food taste good?"

"Santana, cooking is more than just basic chemical reactions and a bit of biology, it's an art form. Why do you think I hire the _best_ chefs in the world to make me food at any given time?" She sighs takes a seat at Santana's island, pulling out her phone, and tapping out a text message. "There, I told Kurt to have a five course breakfast fit for six people to be ready in forty-five minutes."

Santana groaned, "Seriously?"

Charlie leaned against the island studying her, "You asked for my help, I helped. Your parents are going to eat a lot of food, drink a few mimosas and then when the moment is right you'll tell them that you and Quinn divorced, months ago and then you'll tell them about your job. I mean that's what they're here isn't it? Then you take them around the city and send them back home and they'll be proud of you. They will be a bit hurt that you didn't keep them informed and guess what? The world doesn't end." She picks up her phone and begins to tap on it. "See, problem solved. If I were you, I'd dust and shower, you smell like sex. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

"When you say _things_ , do you mean _crashing_ my reunion with my parents?" Santana narrows her eyes. "Charlie you _know_ my mother."

"We aren't dating, and I still find you irritating."

Santana scowled for a moment before smirking, "You _like_ the pain in your ass don't you—"

Charlie raised a brow, "Your parents will be here in about forty-five minutes, assuming that the taxi driver chooses not to take the scenic route. So you should probably start cleaning." Charlie waves.

"Fine." Santana grumbles some help Charlie was. She didn't even know why she bothered.

~O~

Santana swung open the door to her apartment and forced a huge smile onto her face, "Mami! Papi!" She said throwing her arms around her dad and letting him hug her tightly. "I'm so sorry, my alarm didn't go off and I slept in. I've been so busy at work and they've been _busting_ my ass lately, so any time that I can get some sleep, I needed to take it." It was the truth more or less, work was a pain in the ass, and she loved every moment of it.

"Mija," Carlos said as he pulled away for a moment so he could look at her squarely. "You need to call more, your mother worries especially with everything that's going on. We don't want to have to see you on _television_. We don't know anything that's going on in your life anymore."

"You never told us that you had gone to work for Charlie, I was under the opinion that you and Quinn believed that she was a super villain."

"She built a death ray for shits and giggles," Santana responds. "I think we can assume that she's a super villain, I've just come to the conclusion that Charlie is too lazy to be some evil dictator," Santana responds with a shrug. "Also, she fired me. So I no longer work for Prometheus." Santana admits.

"Then how can you _afford_ , a place like this?" Maribel questioned narrowing her eyes. "And where is Quinn? How is she?"

"Uh—breakfast is getting cold, nothing is grosser than cold eggs," Santana mumbles stumbling backwards, she stops and leans forward making sure to pick up her parent's bags. She should have known her parents were going to press her. She wasn't mentally prepared for this, even though it had been months. She takes a deep breath, "I don't know how Quinn is doing. I mean I know she can walk again, but she doesn't live here. We don't really live together anymore. We haven't in _months_. We got divorced."

"Divorced—Santana, please don't tell me that you divorced your wife due to her injuries. What type of person—"

" _Papi_ , you raised me right. You _know_ I didn't leave Quinn because she was in the stupid chair. I mean I might not have understood what she was going through but I tried—Lord knows how much I fucking _tried_." Santana makes a face and motions for her parents to take a seat at her island. "The food's getting cold, and it is probably _delicious_."

Maribel glanced at the spread, despite her best efforts Santana had never been much of a cook. She didn't have the patience and liked to set her food on fire just for the hell of it. "Santana, I think you owe us an explanation."

Santana bites her lip and frowns, "I don't owe anyone _anything_. I know you want to hear the sordid details of my life but my marriage failed, I'm still angry and hurt over it. I'm still _ashamed_ over being so fucking stupid, and I don't want to _hear_ that you were right. Or I told you so, or anything of the sort. I just want to lick my wounds. Is that okay?"

Carlos and Maribel share a look over Santana's shoulder. "Of course mija." Carlos assures.

"I'm glad you found a job that you are excited for." Maribel changes the subject, sitting down across from her daughter. She wasn't going to forget that she still needed answers to her questions, but she also knew that sometimes it was better to let Santana stew on something. "Of course, I wish I would have heard about this promotion earlier—"

"It's not a promotion, not really. This super-hero police force wasn't even a thing until a couple months ago, and I've had to bust my ass doing quite a bit of training as we work out the details. I've had physicals, I've had all sorts of tests done, plus the various lectures and classes and the tests."

"Still, we're very proud of you." Carlos interrupts.

Santana nods and picks at her food, this _wasn't_ terrible. "Yes, which is why I invited you up. There's going to be a ceremony and I mean you might get to meet the president. This is a test case, if this works then they're going to be rolling this out on a regional, state by state level. While this is going on, we can be _invited_ into other states to work if they're having an issue. Hopefully they start rolling this out across the country, which means we will all be held accountable."

"It's about time, it's become like the Wild West out there. You know a year ago your father had to stay in the hospital for a few days because a brawl broke out, and they caused a bus to crash?" Maribel shook her head. "Seven—"

"Eight. One died about a week later, but eight people died because of that. It was horrific, not to mention the various other injuries. It was _terrible_ mija," Carlos shook his head. It had been all hands on deck, it hadn't just been the bus either they had caused several other accidents as well.

Santana nodded, "We'll be working with law enforcement to make sure that people are evacuated, that we follow protocol. They've made sure to assign us with the _best_ that the force has to offer as we make the transition. We've even got our own uniforms as well; you'll be seeing it soon. They're still putting the finishing touches on it."

"You'll be _pleased_ to know that Santana won't be showing any skin, it'll actually be a fully functioning uniform, that's bulletproof and fireproof, all of which will be provided by Prometheus." Charlie says running a hand through her hair, smirking when both Carlos and Maribel turn to look at her.

" _Charlie_." Santana hisses gripping the table. She should have _known_ Charlie was going to pull a stunt like this. "What are you doing here?"

"Bacon," Charlie points to the plate filled with bacon and moves to join them. "Also, proving a point about how irritating it is when you enter my apartment and eat my food without my permission, not to mention just showing up." She pulls out a chair and smiles at Santana's parents. "Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, it's been far too long. Fifteen years—well five thousand seven hundred forty-nine days exactly."

" _Charlie_."

"Do you mind passing the bacon?" Charlie asks nodding towards the plate. "I know it's terribly unhealthy, but it's a guilty pleasure."

"If it isn't the evil genius herself. You have no idea how thankful we are for everything you done for this family, especially when it came to making that material for Santana while she was still learning to control her powers. I'm sure you saved her from many awkward situations as a child," Carlos said a delighted tone in his voice as he immediately engulfs Charlie in a hug,

"Don't compliment her! Do you have any idea how insufferable her ego is?" Santana grumbles staring at Charlie, her parents were going to figure everything out and her life would be over.

"What are you doing here Charlie?"

"Oh I live upstairs. Santana used to be my bodyguard as you know and I thought it was best that she lived in close proximity to me, which is why I got her this apartment." Charlie eyes Santana the amusement etched on her face.

Santana pushes the plate of bacon towards Charlie. "Have the plate, go away."

"Mija you _know_ we didn't raise you to turn away a guest," Maribel lectured.

Santana sputtered and glared at Charlie darkly, watching as Charlie picked up a piece of bacon and chewed it thoughtfully. "She's not a guest, she's a menace."

Charlie shrugged, "True. I am a menace. Has she been calling you? I tell her to call you, she doesn't listen to me."

Santana's jaw dropped at this, "You ass—"

"Of course she doesn't call us, and thank you Charlie. I'm glad that she's reconnected with you after all these years. We always thought you were a good influence on her."

"She made a death ray!" Santana protests. "Did you forget that I told you that she made a _death_ ray?"

"Tell me about this new invention of yours, the one that's all over the news," Carlos said leaning forward. Prometheus was on the bleeding edge of new medical technology.

"You mean where she assaulted Quinn?" Santana reminds them flatly.

"You mean _fixed_ Quinn, she can walk now after all," Charlie corrects and smirks. "I'd love to. I don't know what I'm going to call it, the marketing department is in charge of that. It's going to change medicine as we know it, unfortunately the problem now is that it's far too expensive to be rolling out to the general public. It's for lack of a better term nano-tech. I used my new organ printing technology and miniaturized it. At least for this case, my people are looking at different uses for it. It's like Christmas already, everyone wants their name on this. The company is hoping that I finally get nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine. Who knows I don't quite think they like me, there's a lot of politics that go into this."

"I can't imagine them not _liking_ you." Maribel frowns.

"I can." Santana quips.

Charlie ignores Santana but shoots her a pointed smirk. "You two wouldn't want to meet the President today, would you?"

Carlos jaw drops. Sure they hadn't voted for the current president in the last election, but the very idea of being able to meet the leader of the free world seemed outrageous. "You can do that?"

"Please tell me you don't have the President on speed dial." Santana groans. She was never going to hear the end of it from her parents.

Charlie shrugs. "Fine. I won't tell you that, even though it's true. He's in town for the whole unveiling, so traffic is going to be a bitch. If it makes you feel better, you're going to meet him later. He'll be there, you're going to need to learn how to salute, I'm sure you know this already." Charlie waves her hand.

"We don't have anything to wear to meet the president Carlos," Maribel reminds him. They hadn't brought any black-tie wear.

" _Charlie_ —"

"That's not a problem, let me put you in touch with my assistant. He needs to earn his keep anyway, and I'm irritated at him. He'll get you in touch with my personal tailor. You should have something lovely tonight." Charlie said taking another bite of the bacon, she picks up the plate. "Santana, I'm sure you can find something in your closet that's acceptable."

A small fireball appeared in her hand and she held up her hand. "Don't you have something to do? Build another death ray? Take over Antarctica?"

Charlie laughed and took the entire plate filled with bacon. "I was going to spend the day at my lab, I apologize if I'm late for tonight's festivities." She shoots a mock salute before leaving, pausing at the doorway. "Now you know how I feel," she snipes at Santana and laughs again when Santana throws the small fireball at the doorway.

" _Santana_."

"She _started_ it," Santana grunts stabbing her eggs in an irritated fashion.

Maribel reaches forward and takes a sip of her mimosa, "That doesn't mean that you have to end it."

"It was a _little_ fireball!"

"I think the question that needs an answer is; when did you and Charlie start sleeping together?" Carlos frowned and reached over to pat his daughter on the back firmly. "Did that have a role in the end of your relationship with Quinn?"

" _Papi!_ "

"Oh you noticed it too. I thought we were going to wait till she was ready to tell us."

"Well it doesn't take a _genius_ to figure it out," Carlos sniffed indignantly at his wife. He _noticed_ things, especially when his daughter was concerned. "I know we implied we'd wait Santana but—"

"Quinn _cheated_ on me. With Rachel. Charlie is a _friend_. Not, even really a friend. We're not dating and nothing is going to happen between us. We'd probably end up killing each other. You know she doesn't watch movies?" Santana responds in a clipped tone. It was going to be a _long_ visit, and then afterwards she was going to murder Charlie.

~O~

Santana tugs down on her top, fiddling with her uniform to try to get rid of the nervous energy that seemed to bubble at her fingertips. She wasn't even sure why she was nervous. This was her _shot_. All she needed to do was not accidentally flame up when she walked up on stage. She was supposed to be a professional, and her parents were in the crowd watching. Everyone was watching.

" _Ma'am,_ your speech. We will need a copy of it for the teleprompter." Kurt's voice rang out, irritation evident in his voice. "You are the _face_ of this program, and this is your first real public foray into politics. This _has_ to go well. I have several speeches for you to go over—"

"Not now Kurt."

"Don't _'not now'_ me. I'm far too busy to waste my time sorting through speeches to make sure you don't make me sound like some dictator." Kurt's not about to be blown off. "This is an _international_ broadcast; we can't afford to have you go off on a tangent. Or say something offensive, which you do all the time."

Santana turns and blinks at Charlie who was standing there in a light-grey tailored suit. Her hair was actually done up quite nicely and she was sure that Charlie was wearing some light makeup. "What are you doing here?"

"You think I'd make you show up here and brave the press alone?"

"That's exactly what I think."

Charlie smirks. "At least you're honest. But Kurt here said that my greatest political achievement shouldn't go unrecognized. Something about this being good for a future presidential run."

Kurt stomps his foot angrily. "For the millionth time, Charlie, the American Public needs to see you at your political achievements so that they can associate you with keeping law and order throughout the country. That should be enough to offset those who—"

"Yeah, yeah, associate me with being an evil mastermind. I got it." She waves off the comment. "I have a speech ready Kurt, I'm sure it'll bring the audience to tears. It will touch the hearts of even my most cynical critics." Charlie waved him off, and turns to Santana. "I have something for you."

"More expensive booze?"

"You can't drink on the job Santana," Charlie reminds her absentmindedly. Holding up a box for her. "I thought that this might make you feel better, though I could be wrong. Also I'm going to need you to sign an indemnity agreement. You know, so if you accidentally poke your eye out or lose a hand you can't sue me. After all I didn't actually want to make this for you. I wasn't till I thought about making—you know what never mind. It doesn't make the sound effects."

Santana grinned reaching for the box and frowning when Charlie pulls it out of her grip, "You made it? You made me a lightsaber!"

"Shush, Disney has deep pockets and they'll sue me if they think I'm going to start mass producing these. I'm not. I'm sure they own the rights, though let's be frank they have no idea the science behind it. Perhaps I should talk to them about it. They'll probably think it's super cool." Charlie muses. She motions for Kurt to come forward. "I'm going to need your signature before I give you this weapon. Keep that in mind, this is a _weapon_. Also I have no idea how it repels laser beams. It doesn't work like that."

"Right. Where's the contract?" Santana says and Kurt steps forward with his tablet out, and she quickly scrawled her name on the dotted line. "Gimme!"

Charlie stares at her a look of horror on her face. "Do you—do you not read contracts?"

"You're one to talk," Kurt mutters.

"I have an entire floor of lawyers," Charlie responds and shakes her head. "You should take the time to read contracts. I could have asked for your soul or something ridiculous like that."

"You don't believe in souls," Kurt reminds her.

Charlie tosses the box at Santana who catches and unwraps it. Charlie watches as Santana grins at the smooth metal and is about to push the button. "Seriously Santana, at least hold it up vertically before you kill someone."

Santana complies and clicks the button as a purple laser jets out in a long sustained beam. "I have a fucking light saber!"

Charlie watches her for a moment her lips twitching upward. "Yes. Do try not to accidentally _murder_ someone with that. Please? Now if you'll excuse me, I have people to talk to, networking. You know that sort of thing. The boring stuff."

Santana nods and waves the lightsaber around, her eyes dancing in delight. She would definitely have some fun with this later. She pushes the button. "Thank you Charlie."

Charlie shrugs and waves, "Don't throw up on stage," she advises. "Remember you need to make me look good."

"I serve the public," Santana reminds her and shakes her head. "I need to go and check over the people in _my_ district. I'll see you after?"

"She'll be flying out to Hong Kong tonight." Kurt says before Charlie can agree. He needed to keep her on schedule and _on_ message. All of the people that Charlie had hired to make her look presidential, all the consultants were pulling their hair out when it came to her. And there was a nasty rumor that Charlie and Santana were sleeping together. He needed to snap Charlie out of it. It wouldn't look good for _either_ of them if that was the case.

"Oh, well let me know when you get back." Santana deactivated her lightsaber and moved to tuck it into her back pocket.

"Don't—don't do that. You won't think it's as cool if it burns a hole through your ass."

"I'd like to see it try." Santana scoffs, but places it gingerly in her side-holster instead. "Have fun preparing your speech. Don't pass out."

"Don't you have a squad to meet or something?"

Santana sticks out her tongue but she probably should talk to her squad. "Enjoy Hong Kong."

"Don't break into my apartment, spend time with your parents." Charlie responds.

Santana turns and fixes her uniform once more. It should bother her that Prometheus was taking an _active_ role in equipping them. But the new material was supposedly bulletproof without the added bulk of wearing a vest. The material would probably end up being worn by _everyone_ in law enforcement. Yet another win for Prometheus, it was no wonder the stock price had been steadily rising for months. It was rumored that Prometheus was at this point simply sitting on piles upon piles of cash.

She swallows and shakes her head, she needed to check over her squad and make sure that their uniforms were perfect. They needed to make a good impression on the public. At least give off the aura that she knew what she was doing even though at this point she wasn't sure she did. She walks down the hallway and into the changing room that her squad was using to get into their uniforms. She pushes open the door to her squadron and enters the room straightening herself up and standing tall. It feels weird when people turn to her and stand at attention. It's a power rush of sorts, but these people _depended_ on her. When she was younger she had always dreamed of running her own squad.

"Ma'am."

"At ease," Santana says rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, this is it. The big day. The world is going to see us; they're going to _judge_ us. Which is why we need to show how—professional we are. We _need_ them to trust us. We _need_ to show them, that we are capable of doing things the right way. It's the end of the Wild West out there. That's why I'm doing this. This project needs to be a success so none of you can _fuck up_."

A timid hand raises from the back and Santana has to move to see who it belongs to. "Rose? What's your question?"

"Do you think there'll be an attack tonight? We _are_ working closely with Prometheus and—"

"Prometheus's only involvement is supplying our uniforms, which are basically indestructible, so if you see Charlie Fabray you can thank her personally." It was a lie, she had a feeling Prometheus's involvement ran much deeper than just uniforms. Though she doubted Charlie would simply tell her if that was the case.

"You can't be serious, she's a _villain_."

"Shut up Coleman." Santana snaps at him. He thankfully scowls but doesn't push her on the issue. "Look, we're here to be the arm of the government. That means, that people are _innocent_ until proven guilty. It means that we do everything in our power to _avoid_ fistfights that might cause innocent lives just to bring in a villain. It means that this unit is going to be squeaky clean and by the book. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am." The recruits answer in unison.

"Good." Santana exhales, "You'll be meeting the President of the United States tonight, he will personally shake all of your hands. For the love of god, act like a professional. Do not throw up on him, do not smack his shoulder do not do any of that stuff. He's the Commander in Chief. We show respect, we keep our faces neutral. He's not a terrible person, I mean _I_ didn't vote for him but a lot of people did. So keep your politics to yourself." Santana smiles, "Anyway carry on, we've got about an hour before we're supposed to be out there. I mean most of it is going to be boring. They are going to be giving speeches. We've practiced this. You'll be fine." At least she hoped that they'd be fine. She could already see how this could go dramatically wrong.


	23. Volume 04: Issue 02

Charlie pointedly ignored Brittany and stared down at her tablet. She might be stuck on a plane with Brittany but that didn't mean she had to pay attention to her. She finally had time to come up with a plan away from the prying eyes of security cameras she swore were tracking her.

She would worry about her mental health later; paranoia was the first descent into madness as far as she was concerned. Though she didn't think the _government_ was after her or aliens, no it was this hacker who she still hadn't managed to find. Writing security patches weekly was killing her, and it was boring. Whoever this hacker was they weren't interested in Prometheus so much as her personal information. The email scandal had been something that had hit her personally. But one thing had been missing, from the email dump. All of her personal emails with Elaine, none of those had come out. Perhaps the hacker wasn't interested in embarrassing her on a national stage or they were waiting for her to announce her presidential run. It was something to think about at least.

She glances at her tablet and types in a few more commands when she feels something wet and warm entering her ear, causing her to jump away and turn to Brittany irritation on her face. "Really? A wet willy?"

Brittany grinned, "You weren't paying attention to me, I've been trying to talk to you for the past hour."

Kurt glanced over at Brittany, hopefully Brittany could talk some sense into Charlie. Something was off about her and she hadn't spent nearly as much time in her lab as she normally did. Instead she had been in front of her desk for ages. The board of investors were waiting patiently for Charlie's next _big_ idea, but he was worried she was in a rut. The last thing that she had made had been for Santana.

"I'm ignoring you." Charlie shoots her a glare before turning back to the task at hand. "And I'm busy."

"Aw, Charlie, don't be like that." Brittany lunges across the aisle and wraps Charlie in a tight hug. "You know you'll always be my favorite."

Charlie pushes Brittany away, frowning. "Stop it."

"No. You need a hug. I heard Prometheus got hacked. It wasn't us, just in case you thought I'd stoop that low to steal your research."

"Kurt, tell Brittany to leave me alone."

Kurt doesn't look up from the magazine he's reading at the front of the plane. "No."

"You do remember you work for _me_ , right?" Charlie put down the tablet, annoyed that he wasn't just going to listen to her and do her bidding. Maybe she _should_ have been some epic criminal mastermind. Then at least she'd have loyal minions who would follow her every order.

"You're both adults. And _friends_. Figure it out."

"I hate you."

"Don't worry Kurt, if she fires you, you can always come work for me."

"You wouldn't dare."

Brittany arches her brow playfully. "Yes. I would. You _know_ I would and if I wasn't getting more serious with Mike I'd say you needed to get laid. Should I call someone? Maybe they can help you get the stick out of your ass."

"I'm perfectly happy, thank you."

Brittany's eyes narrowed. There was something about the way Charlie shifted guiltily or maybe it was the hitch in her voice, but she had known Charlie well enough to realize what that meant. "I take it back. You're _dating_ again."

"You _are_?" Kurt drops his magazine, clearly shocked. " _Please_ tell me that you aren't dating Santana. Charlie this could ruin _everything_ —"

"We're not _dating_." Charlie stops him before he can lecture her further.

Brittany has the good sense to look apologetic for bringing it up. "Well, please stop being mad at me. It's just—you remember how it was to be in love right? To have someone who loved you more than anything in the world who would do anything for you?"

Charlie hummed not looking up. "I'm assuming the sex is fantastic then."

"It is, but Charlie—"

"I'm happy for you Brittany. Now if you'll excuse me I have to finish this security patch and—"

"It's not just about the sex. You know that." Brittany lectures. When Charlie doesn't say anything she sighs. "What's going on with you Chuck? You used to tell me everything and then you stopped. You stopped calling, you stopped texting, you stopped emailing me, you didn't send me ducks anymore—you've been avoiding me."

"I haven't. You've been in Hong Kong enjoying your life with Mike for the past few months, by the way your stock price is down for Pierce Industries and it's been tempting to buy it. You need to get back to work or let me take over your company. As for why I haven't made myself available, perhaps it's because my company was attacked. Twice. Within a year."

"Three times," Kurt reminded her, taking a sip of his drink and crossing his legs. "You're forgetting Santana's debut back into your life."

"My point exactly, my company has been attacked three times. Twice by Super's, and once by this unknown hacker. I've been busy trying to keep my company together. So excuse me if I didn't have time to wait up for you and listen to you gush over Mike for hours. You were also twelve hours ahead of me—"

Brittany rolled her eyes, "You don't sleep, at least not unless you've been having consistent sex, or you're on drugs again." Brittany pauses. "Are you back on the pills again?"

"No."

"So you have been having sex with Santana." Brittany surmised, when Charlie doesn't answer she continues. "Well, I'm happy for you Chuck."

"I'm not," Kurt mutters. "She's your sister's ex-wife. The whole thing reeks of _incest_. This belongs on a Jerry Springer show."

Brittany frowns slightly, "Kurt. I thought we agreed that I'd handle this intervention."

Charlie pauses and looks up at Brittany and then narrows her eyes at Kurt, she knew it was suspicious when Brittany had insisted on flying with her instead of using her own jet. Engine problems her _ass_. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't say the word intervention. In case you haven't noticed my life is currently slightly _above_ its usual baseline. My company stock has never been higher; I've won the public battle to finally police the damn superhero community. My speech at the unveiling brought people to tears, people are _still_ talking about it. Didn't need a damn speech writer for that. I don't see why you're worried about me."

Brittany studies Charlie for a moment, and glances at the glass of scotch that was sitting on the table beside Charlie. She had started to drink again which was never a good sign. "Well, I'm glad that you're above the baseline Chuck."

Charlie scowls. Brittany's not one to let go of a good intervention, especially if it involved sex. She reaches down and takes a sip of her scotch, purposefully meeting Brittany's gaze. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you any special way." Brittany denies.

"You think I'm obsessing over Santana. I'm _not_."

"No, you're obsessing over the hacker right? Because they managed to get past you?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Probably. I mean someone who can break into your system? You designed it from the ground up, I mean sure I've managed to get past it a few times but I know you personally, I know where your weak points are. We've _slept_ together, so I definitely know where your weak points are."

"I'm not worried about you hacking me, I also know it's not your work. You're not nearly as fast as this person was, they were keeping up with me. Though it might be the other way around, I'm not quite sure."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh." Brittany agrees firmly. "It makes sense, but it's still not healthy."

"It's not healthy to find the hacker that's trying to destroy my company?" Charlie scoffs.

"No. It's not healthy to be obsessed with some hacker. I know you Charlie. Is that why you're keeping Santana at arm's length? Because this hacker can beat you?"

"No."

"Liar." Brittany teases. "You think this hacker might be your soulmate. That maybe you can make perfect super-intelligent lady babies with her."

Kurt scoffs at the absurdity but frowns when Charlie shifts guiltily.

"I just need to find her. Or him. Whoever this hacker is. I have to find them."

"Charlie, you _know_ eugenics has a whole host of ethical problems, not to mention the fact that it got co-opted by the white nationalist party. And as adorable as little genius babies might be, do you remember how _lonely_ it was to be us? You like being the smartest person in the room. That's why you and I would never work out."

"You and I would never work out because you have the attention span of a gnat."

" _And_ I'm smarter than you."

"What's three IQ points? That doesn't even really—"

" _My point_ is that you like competing, but you also like being right. I think if you really put your mind to it, you could stop this hacker. You're just stringing them along because you want to find them first. So _stop it_. Date Santana. She's nice and real and for some reason _likes you_." Brittany nudges Charlie playfully. "You deserve to be happy. Not just above the baseline."

"Your advice is noted." Charlie grumbles. She hated it when Brittany decides to be her life's commentator, but she hates it even more when Brittany's right. "Do you want to take a look over these security patches? Maybe you can help me see what I'm missing."

"I thought you'd never ask," Brittany said pulling the tablet out of Charlie's hands. "I'll show you what three IQ points can do."

"You know it was well within the margin of error," Charlie sniffs.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Brittany questions and laughs. "No wonder you won't go head to head against me. You don't to lose again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Charlie sniffed. She is quiet watching Brittany work, "The reason we never worked out is because I doubt it's a good idea for two geniuses to be together. In the long run, you push me to be better, and you know I'm not ready to get lost down that rabbit hole. Forgetting to eat, I already don't sleep as we went through problems and ethical discussions. I'm far too old for that shit."

Brittany smirked, it was the first completely honest thing Charlie had said all day. "Which is why I'm telling you to let this go. You keep looking and you're going to fall. I'm sure the fall will feel like a rush to you but when you hit the ground there's no coming back up."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Charlie admits picking up her glass of scotch and taking a sip.

~O~

Charlie crossed her legs as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes focused on her television where she was currently in a conference call with the best architects and designer teams that money could buy. It was certainly cheaper than simply flying them into the city. But with their old Prometheus headquarters back to being structurally sound it was finally time to redesign her office. "I have the mock up designs that you sent me and I don't think any of you understand exactly what I want—"

"Ms. Fabray with the budget that was handed to us, we had to curb your wish list down, a three-hundred-thousand-dollar budget simply isn't enough to do everything that you wanted us too. We'd be forced to skimp on the design choices."

Charlie turned her attention to the person on the screen that had spoken. She looked down at her tablet to make sure she had the name right. "Sandy Ryerson was it? Thank you for your time, it's a good thing you spoke up because your design choices are seizure inducing. So this conversation will be continuing without you." She presses the end button on her tablet and smirks as his face disappears off her screen. She looks at the rest of the people there. "Now, let's try this again. Money isn't an _issue_ for me. My main concern is that my office needs to be bigger, it needs to be functional because I plan to put in a fully functioning work station in that office. I no longer have the time to keep going back to my lab, so it needs to be functional and conserve space. As for the aesthetics of the place, I do like the futuristic concept that you designed. Mrs.—" Charlie looks down. "Wright. Unfortunately, according to my assistant it needs to match the rest of the decor. Something about flow," Charlie shrugs. "Apparently being the CEO, means that I can't make unilateral decisions on design that he has to live with."

"That makes sense of course Ms. Fabray, I can tone down the metallic and the futuristic concept, and simply go with a sleek modern look if you wish?"

"Yes, that would probably be for the best," Charlie muses. "I will also put you in touch with some of my _tech_ guys, they've got a few ideas that they would like to run by you. I imagine you have someone who can build custom furniture?"

Isabelle Wright, "I have a few people, I think that if you put me in touch with these guys, I can have my contacts get in touch with them and maybe talk it over so that they can show me what exactly you need and I can make a few more mock-ups for you to take a look at."

"Excellent. Now, let's talk about the size of my office, and if it is at all possible to have it—" Charlie turns her head and narrows her eyes when she hears her front door opening. She's not at all surprised to see Santana standing there. "Go away, I'm in the middle of—"

"My _job_ sucks."

Charlie watches as Santana marches into her apartment as if she _owned_ the place and proceeded to open her fridge and rummage through it. She exhales and turns back to her meeting, "I apologize. I have a pest problem, that enjoys pilfering my things. I believe she thinks that she lives here," Charlie flashes a smile during the meeting. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the size of my office needs to be bigger and if possible I'd like it raised, however we can talk about that at another time. As you can see, there are things that I need to deal with at this moment. Now if you'll excuse me." Charlie says ending the conference call and turning on Santana. "Santana, I do occasionally conduct meetings in my house. Which means that you can't go barging into my apartment like you own the place."

"How do you _not_ have anything to eat?" Santana bitches slamming the fridge closed. She was _starving_ , and Charlie usually kept her fridge pretty well stocked.

"I was in Hong Kong; I don't like coming back to food that has spoiled in my fridge. Not that it's any of your business, but I am expecting a delivery in the next hour or so." Charlie crosses her legs. "Don't you have food in your fridge?"

"I haven't had time to go shopping—"

"Is the excuse you've been using since you moved into your apartment." Charlie interrupts, she reaches for the special pen for her tablet and looks at Santana carefully. "If I didn't know any better, I think you were using me for the free _expensive_ food, that you seem to enjoy eating."

Santana smirk, "Don't forget the top-shelf booze," she teases.

Charlie rolls her eyes and watches as Santana approaches her and sits down on the couch, immediately putting her feet up on her expensive coffee table. She's given up attempting to get Santana to put her feet down on the ground. "I _assume_ , that you're complaining to me because you miss working for me."

"Well it doesn't suck _that_ much." Santana quips and reaches for Charlie's glass of wine that is just sitting on the coffee table.

"Would it kill you to get up and get your own glass?" Charlie asks. It was a silly question, Santana _enjoyed_ getting under her skin.

"Probably."

"So tell me why your job 'sucks'. I thought developing a police force would be something right up your alley."

"Do you have any idea how much of my job is simply _paperwork_?" Santana downs the glass quickly. "The _rest_ of it is nothing more than glorified PR stunts. Charlie it's _torture_."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "It's been a week, and there aren't any _real_ super villains anymore. The only thing you have is people with powers who think it's a good idea to rob a liquor store. Though there are plenty of cases that you could investigate where they aren't dumb idiot committing a petty crime. There have been several unsolved cases that could quite possibly be the work of a serial killer. One that has superpowers."

Santana waves her hand dismissively. She would definitely look into it, but she wasn't going to let Charlie steer her to cases. It was petty and she was sure that Charlie was just trying to help in her own way but Prometheus already had far too much influence. She leans against the couch and looks at Charlie. "So."

"So? You must have more important things to do than disturb my meetings and eat all of my food." Charlie points out.

"Maybe I missed you." Santana shrugs.

"Oh." Charlie doesn't have a retort for that. She's glad when the doorbell rings, signifying that her groceries have finally arrived.

"Don't get up, I'll get it." Santana pushes Charlie back when she tries to get up. "It's the least I can do since I'm probably going to eat half of it."

"Probably more than half." Charlie quips, before realizing that she had ordered far more than necessary and had even added a few of Santana's favorite items. Maybe she should consider Brittany's advice, even if she was miles away from ever taking it.

~O~

Santana was _hot_.

It was something that Charlie noticed every single time sex was involved between them. Yes, she was sexy but her core body temperature generally ran a few degrees hotter than average. It made things interesting whenever they had sex, there was generally a bit more sweat involved. Simply _being_ with Santana was a work out, one that constantly seemed to push her endurance. But more importantly it silenced _everything_ else.

The noise inside her head wasn't as loud. She wasn't busy thinking of a multitude of problems and possible solutions to them. It was just _blissful_ silence. Well—silence with the occasional fill of Santana's moans and grunts, which was actually rather pleasing to her ears.

"My turn," Santana whispers gripping Charlie carefully and pushing her against the window watching as she shivered. She can't help the evil smirk that slowly creeps along her face. "Look at you. _Shit_ , if the world could see the big bad evil genius, right now. Wonder what they would say?"

"Who cares, you just want to watch Kurt's head explode."

"I do." Santana grins cheekily. "So do you. You like getting under his skin just as much as I do." She pauses when Charlie doesn't answer her right away, "Or this is part of a sociology experiment of yours to see how long it takes for Kurt to have a heart attack."

"Sociology is junk science. I don't care about the macro, I _care_ about the micro, the individual—" Charlie's cut off by Santana's lips pressing against hers. She kisses back, letting the rush of adrenaline, dopamine and serotonin surge through her body, it was a cocktail, the perfect blend that seemed to drown everything out. She closes her eyes and lets Santana deepen the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Santana's fingers trying to find her core.

This was different than what she generally allowed in bed, but she had quickly learned that Santana _wasn't_ going to simply let her have her way and then kick her out. She was an active participant. With her enhanced strength and her abilities, it made sex _interesting_ again. She tilts her head back and bucks her hips, and she can practically feel Santana's smirk from here. She knows how this is going to go, Santana would whisper very dirty things in her ear and then—

A picture flashes in front of her eyes, and she feels the warmness of her augmented reality contacts kicking into high gear. It changes before she can adjust, and it is immediately followed by a picture of someone in rather revealing lingerie. Posing with a seductive look on her face, with those pouty lips that she had loved to kiss so much. The blue eyes that stared back at her, with the twinkle in her eye. She would recognize that _face_ anywhere. Elaine. It was Elaine.

Immediately she feels the guilt, and reacts pushing Santana away from her as she slips to the floor, opening her eyes. It's like a bucket of cold water that brings back the roar of her mind as everything begins to fire on all cylinders.

' _Do you remember the story of Hercules?'_

Charlie smacked Santana's hands away, the roar was still there, and she couldn't hear _anything_ all she could see right now was the words that had just flashed in front of her face.

' _Or the story of Leto?'_ She had never been a history major and she had found the classical myths to be an interesting case study. Perhaps the ancient _gods_ had Super Powers. She hadn't delved deeper into it, but it had been a part of Elaine's Thesis. ' _What about the story of Semele?_ '

"Where are _you?_ " Charlie demands loudly. She could respond, she could type back but she wasn't going to get stuck that down rabbit hole.

' _They all have something in common. You're a genius figure it out champ.'_

Almost immediately the thrum on her eyes disappears and she slumps back, her mind racing at a nonstop pace. Semele? Leto? Hercules she knew, but the other's she wasn't quite familiar with. Hercules the son of Zeus, incorrectly portrayed by Disney as having been a—

"Charlie!" Santana shakes her, she had gone slack for a moment, and her face had gone blank. It had scared the shit out of her. "Charlie, _fuck_. I don't know what to do if you're fucking having a stroke or something. I called Kurt, he said that your medical team—"

"Not having a stroke." Charlie finally speaks up. "I got hacked. _Fuck_. I got hacked _again_." Charlie slammed her hands against the ground. She felt ill and guilty, but there was a clue and she needed to find the answer. Leto, Semele, Hercules. Hercules had been tormented by Hera, made to complete 12 tasks and then he had been driven mad by Hera, who had been jealous of Zeus's infidelities.

Semele had been _tricked_ Hera to force Zeus to reveal himself in all of his glory. Leto had been a minor god who had been pregnant with Zeus's child—Charlie pauses for a moment, there was one thing in common with all these stories. Zeus had cheated, Hera had retaliated, people's lives had been ruined. "I don't—"

"Charlie, you're going to get checked out. Your brain can't be hacked, unless there's a psychic nearby this could be an attack. _Shit_ —" Santana panicked.

Charlie immediately scrambled to her feet. She didn't have time to deal with Santana right now. "Santana. I'm fine. I got hacked again. She got into my augmented reality contacts." She side steps her and grabs a shirt that's on the ground slipping it on, not caring that it was on backwards.

"She?" Santana follows her a frown on her face. "I thought that you didn't who it was who was hacking you."

Charlie pulled out her tablet stopping for a moment to remove her contacts. She is about to go back to her tablet when she decides that the best course of action would be to take the wine bottle and smash the contacts with them. She had others that hadn't been used but she needed to be safe now. "I didn't. I do now."

Santana waits but when no information is forthcoming she coughs, "Charlie, I'm a cop now. I'm going to need a name," she reminds her and glances down at her nudity. She still wasn't a hundred percent certain that Charlie hadn't had a massive stroke or a seizure of sorts.

"Elaine. Santana, I think she's alive." Charlie responds, hope and delight in her voice.

Santana opened her mouth and then closed it. She didn't know what to say to Charlie, but she had _clearly_ had a stroke. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to restrain her or just go along with her delusions.


	24. Volume 04: Issue 03

**A/N: Here's the deal with Hellfire, it's not complete. I have about 8 more chapters to write and I think it's taken me more than a year to get through the past seven chapters, for Volume 6, and I plan on the last volume being volume 7. That's why you get an issue a month. Telling me to update it, isn't going to make me update faster. It will continue to be once a month, until I finish the damn thing. Which may be around Christmas at this point. Maybe.**

* * *

"Do you think that's the pizza guy?" Quinn asks from where she is currently laying on her couch lazily. She makes an attempt to get up, but her legs quickly give out from underneath her. She grunts as she falls back into the couch, and lets out a soft whine. " _Rachel_."

Rachel laughed lightly from where she was laying against Quinn's shoulder. "It's not like I feel like getting up either and I'm beginning to think that you're using the fact that you're still in occupational therapy to be lazy."

"Or—and this is a possibility, my legs don't work. Because you were that good. I mean they feel like jello—" Quinn glances up when there is a loud knocking on the door. "Rachel," she whines. "I'm fucking starving."

"Fine, but you're paying for it," Rachel grumbles as she pulls herself up and reaches for the long shirt that was on the ground. It seemed a bit petty, but Quinn can only flash her a charming smile in return. It was a new chapter in both their lives and Quinn seemed finally ready to enjoy life. She still hadn't been hired by any of the major news networks, so Quinn had decided to simply start her own. It was popular enough that she could afford to pay her bills. She had been right, there _was_ a demand to hear what the sister of Charlie Fabray thought and said and she had reached over a million subscribers in record time. It wouldn't take long before _someone_ noticed her and her career was finally back on track. Though she was sure that if Quinn wanted to she could make her own network with the right financial backers. She slips on the shirt and grabs her purse as she heads to the door. She pulls it open as she digs in her purse, "Sorry for the wait—"

"Because _this_ is just what I wanted to see today. A hobbit attempting to look sexy, whatever will they think of next?" Santana interrupts dryly.

Rachel drops her purse and glares at Santana mostly in shock. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Santana pointed to her white uniform with the design on the front, she hadn't been pleased but they were easy enough to spot and the uniformed look meant that people _knew_ who they were. She personally would have preferred something in red and had said as much to Charlie who had ignored her. "Official business Rachel."

"Do you have a warrant?"

Santana huffs. "Fine. It's _not_ official business but get out of my face. I've got to talk to Quinn."

Rachel smirked, "Oh that's _right_ , you decided to betray everything you stood for and become shackled by all those rules and regulations. I don't _have_ to let you into the house, and more importantly I can complain to your _superiors_ about harassment."

"Yes and I can leak about the affair you had with Quinn, thus ruining your image. No one likes a _homewrecker_ Rachel and people _adored_ Finn. I can do this all day but we _both_ know that Quinn is going to let me in, and you're going to get pissed off, so why don't we just skip all that and I ask Quinn the questions I need answered. You two can go back to having what I imagine is shitty sex that you both think is good."

"Santana? What are you doing here?"

Rachel clenched her fist and turned to Quinn, "She was just leaving—"

"I wasn't, I had a few questions to ask you, police business. I don't have a warrant, or anything I just have questions."

Quinn glanced between both Rachel and Santana for a moment, she wasn't an idiot this _clearly_ wasn't going well for her, and she was hoping that they could continue what they had spent most of the day doing after she had gotten some damn food in her. "Santana, calling would have been nice," Quinn says finally.

"I did. Several times. You think I wanted to drag myself here of all places?" Santana sniffs. "If this wasn't _important_ I wouldn't be here."

Quinn sighed, "Fine, what's so damn important that you couldn't wait for me to get back to you?"

"Elaine Puckerman."

Quinn froze and stared at Santana, any idea she had of simply crawling back onto the couch with Rachel was clearly not going to happen. " _Why_?"

Rachel quickly moved to Quinn's side, "Are they pressing charges—"

"No. Not that I'm aware of, I'd give you heads up if they were. Whether civil charges are going to be brought are another thing entirely." Santana interrupts. "I'm here to see if there's a possibility that Elaine Puckerman _lived_."

Quinn frowned narrowing her eyes, "You mean do you think it's possible for a normal human being to have a building dropped on their head and survive? Santana, they had a body they _had a funeral_. She was probably identified by Charlie or her parents or someone who _knew_ her. I never met her, I don't even know what she looks like."

Santana sighed, "Well, do you think that someone resurrected her? It wouldn't be the first time that this happened. I mean I've _heard of it_ ; not like I've personally ever seen it."

Quinn nodded, she could understand that. She had heard the rumors as well but they had never been verified. "I don't mean any _disrespect_ to Charlie, but Elaine wasn't some popular hero. She was just a history professor. To the entire world she was a nobody, no one is bringing her back."

Santana blows out a frustrated breath. "I thought as much."

"That's not to say it's impossible." Quinn tries to assure.

"Just improbable." Santana agrees. "No one has anything to gain by bringing her back. There's no plan of world domination that stumbles through Elaine's path."

Santana shifts uncomfortably. She's not sure if she feels relieved or more worried. Because if Elaine _wasn't_ alive, that meant Charlie was losing it.

But Quinn's been with Santana long enough to know that there's something more behind her questions. "You say they're not pressing charges. Why are you wondering?"

Santana forces a smile to her face, "Oh, your sister is going bat-shit crazy, so I'm just trying to nip it in the bud before she goes all crazy on us and tries to take over Canada. Thank you for your time," Santana says after a moment, and turns she needed to figure this mystery out before Charlie dropped down that rabbit hole. She wasn't the only one worried.

"Santana—" Quinn sighs, "Thank you. Charlie needs someone like you in her life."

Santana turns to look at her for a moment, she didn't quite know how to respond to that. "I'm Charlie's friend, that's it."

" _Still_."

Santana immediately flames up, Charlie had personally worked on her suit, she would no longer be completely useless at night. "Right, well carry on with the _hobbit_ , my lunch break is over."

Quinn watches as Santana takes off and streaks across the sky, before turning to Rachel who had puffed out her cheeks. "You two are going to need to reach some sort of cease-fire."

"Do we? Or do you need to choose?" Rachel shoots back storming back into the house.

Quinn sighed deeply wondering why her life had become this difficult.

~O~

Quinn groaned as she checked the time on her phone. Being on her own for the first time and trying to run a news organization on her own, made her realize how _difficult_ it was to get all the perks of working for one of the major media companies. She didn't get a van, there were no press passes, she wasn't going to be invited to the Correspondents dinner. Every single dime she made was spent paying her bills and trying to get to places to do interviews. But now her phone was on the fritz and she wasn't sure she could afford another one.

She smacks her phone against her hand, it was only two years old, and there was no way that she could ask Rachel to spot her the money to get a new phone. Asking Charlie for a loan, or whatever deal she had with their parents wasn't quite right either. Santana would probably give her a loan but she didn't feel comfortable going to her for the money either.

"Come on," she mutters mostly to herself. Today had been a disaster and this was the last thing she needed. Though her phone being on the fritz would explain _every_ issue that she had had today. Missed appointments, weird emails, if she was a paranoid person she would assume that someone was out to get her. Even if they were, she was sure she could still take them down. She wasn't helpless.

She groans and makes her way down to the subway entrance, resigned to the fact that she's going to have to figure out some way to deal with her archaic broken phone. She makes her way to the turn-style, trying to use her card to push through the line quickly, only to be stopped when the machine doesn't respond.

"Of course." She groans, making her way to the kiosk to add funds to her card. She pauses at the long line up and she groans, it was going to be _forever_ until she was able to get more money on her card. The weird thing was that she was sure that she had just topped it up last week. She glances at the line again when someone begins to curse at the machine. And the machines were down _great_. She would have gotten an Uber or something if her _damn_ phone worked, but if the systems were down then there would probably be a surcharge of sorts and she wasn't in the mood to pay six times the amount for a ride home. If her body didn't ache, then she'd walk home. Maybe she could use one of the old payphones to call Rachel.

 _'Look at you. Shit, if the world could see the big bad evil genius, right now. Wonder what they would say?'_

Quinn froze at the voice that she had just heard, she would recognize that voice anywhere. But what the fuck was Santana's voice doing here right now?

She looks around when all of the electronic billboards flicker and suddenly synchronize to show what appears to be high-def security cam video.

 _'Who cares, you just want to watch Kurt's head explode.'_

That was definitely Charlie's voice, she knew that much and even though she knew she really shouldn't look, she can't help herself as she turns to the electronic billboards only to see her twin sister and ex-wife, having sex. Not just boring missionary sex, but something that she was certain could be in a porno somewhere and she turns as people begin to gasp and gawk over the naked flesh. A few mothers covering the eyes of their children.

 _'Maybe I am more evil than people expect.'_

She's not sure how she's supposed to feel. Some weird mix between being jealous and disgusted is probably the most accurate. Disappointed that Santana hadn't been able to be honest with her. Sad that Santana felt the need to lie to her anyway. Maybe even a little heartbroken that Santana had been able to move on so seamlessly.

The video footage blacks out and Quinn is just as mystified as the other New Yorkers on the subway platform. Most people look around to see if they should be anticipating something else and Quinn joins them, looking over her shoulder to try and figure out what she expects next. The black screen flashes once more before a string of words appears only on the screen she's looking at.

 _'Is that what we've become? Jason and Medea? Did I mean that little to you?_

Everywhere Quinn turns, the words follow her, jumping from one screen to the next like someone is looking over her shoulder. The kiosk she's standing beside beeps and Quinn takes a step away. That step may have just saved her life as the machine beeps once more and catches on fire. The flames creep up the side of the wall, smoke billowing around them as the other people on the platform scream and run to safety.

Quinn notes distantly, that the fire alarms don't make any sound. The black screen flashes again and suddenly every screen is displaying her face in real time. She shakes herself out of her own surprise and tries to access her own powers. There's literally _no_ moisture in the air or anywhere around for her to take advantage of. She has to get out of there, then maybe she can figure out what the hell is going on. Making her way out of the subway stop, she misses the last message that scrolls across the screen.

 _'I still love you, Penelope. I'm not going to give up that easily.'_

"Quinn? Figures I'd run into you here—wait what the fuck are you doing here?"

Quinn wheels around to see Santana landing on the ground, she's about to respond when her ex-wife turns and begins to bark orders to her team. Though she's interrupted when another boom sounds in the underground space.

"Shit, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know." Quinn holds up her hands defensively, ducking out of the way as the fire alarms finally decide to respond. "Aren't you the one that's supposed to have all the answers?"

"We got the call as soon as this area went dark. The rest of my team should be here any minute." Santana shrugs. "All security cams in this area suddenly stopped responding. We think it might be a terrorist related attack."

Quinn folds her arms over her chest suspiciously. "What took you so long then?"

Santana looks away and Quinn knows she's about to be lied to. "I was busy."

"Busy making your own porno?" Quinn challenges.

"What the hell are you talking about? Kurt called me he needed me to talk to your sister, he thinks she's losing it. Charlie doesn't agree—"

"Of course she doesn't. As for what I'm talking about?" Quinn shudders before throwing Santana's words back into her face. _"'Look at you. Shit, if the world could see the big bad evil genius, right now."_

Santana stared at Quinn a blush forming on her face, "What the fuck—where did you—"

"I _saw_ it. It was all over the TVs." Quinn points down toward the subway stop. "I'm not the only person who knows. Or has seen you two going at each other. So you're going to need to get ahead of this."

"Great—fucking great." Santana makes a face; her parents were going to hear about this. She glances at Quinn and rolls her eyes. "Last time I checked we were divorced. Charlie and I are just friends."

"Fuck buddies," Quinn says dryly trying to keep her tone even, she didn't want to sound jealous. "Look as fun as this is, what the fuck is going on here? It's like I was targeted."

"Don't be ridiculous." Santana rolls her eyes. The rest of her team seems to have the fire covered. "Why would _you_ be targeted?"

"Maybe because I'm a member of the media? Or your ex-wife? Or maybe that I'm Charlie's twin? I don't _know_ why I was targeted, but if someone hacked Charlie—and there were all these Greek symbols—look I'm not saying it's Elaine, she's dead but—"

Santana paled suddenly as it finally dawned on her. "Charlie has a fucking stalker."


	25. Volume 04: Issue 04

"I don't see why we're doing this. I mean this isn't just _any_ CEO, it's the CEO of Prometheus. There are already people _saying_ on message boards and blogs and whatever, that this entire superhero police force is basically her attempts to legalize her own private army. She's independently wealthy, she can _hire_ her own private security force. You know she can—besides the optics of this—"

Santana narrowed her eyes and finally tilted her head at Josh Coleman, ambitious, young and gunning for her job. He wanted to be the face of this organization, he wanted her decent salary. "The optics of what exactly? We need to offer her _protection_. Prometheus has a rather large discretionary fund for Charlie's protection detail. She won't be needing us, but it's our _duty_ to offer her round the clock protection until this threat is handled."

"The fact that you're _fucking her_ ," Josh responds.

Santana's body went rigid, her private life was quickly entering the public sphere and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. It was the _other_ reason she was here. Kurt needed to start doing whatever he did to make this problem go away. It didn't matter if she _hadn't_ done anything wrong and that she hadn't started to sleep with Charlie until after the job had been offered to her. People would _assume_ , incorrectly, that she had only gotten this position because she had fucked Charlie.

"I think you need to remember that I am your _superior_. Who I fuck or don't fuck is none of your damn business." She warns, her voice low and threatening. She wants to go on to verbally smack him down, but the elevator doors slide open. She takes a step out and makes her way to Charlie's office. Like usual the executives and their personal assistants just ignore her presence. Or they do until she stops in front of Kurt's desk.

"Didn't Charlie fire your ass?"

"You know that you can't get rid of me that easily, cupcake." Santana retorts easily.

Kurt didn't even look up from what he was doing. "Are you here to arrest her?"

"Is she muttering about taking over New Zealand again?" Santana questions motioning for the rest of her unit to follow her.

This was enough to cause Kurt to look up, "You can go see her, your lackeys can't. Charlie isn't seeing anyone right now; she wants to limit the interruptions. She's finally creating things and solving the world's problems again and you know how she is about _stupid_ people." Kurt points to Josh Coleman, "He doesn't look particularly bright."

Santana snorted but immediately schooled her face, "This is official business Kurt—"

"Don't care, we don't need him inadvertently killing any brain cells. Unless you're here to arrest her, you don't need this many people to talk to her. You have five minutes."

Santana scowled, "Fine—stay here, I'll be right back," she snaps to Josh and the rest of her guys. This was good this meant that she could tell Charlie that the cat was out of the bag when it came to them sleeping together and she would need to use her considerable PR people to get this ignored without it affecting the two of them. Santana pushes the door open and flicks her eyes to Charlie who is currently sipping on a small little teacup. She sighs and closes the door. Charlie _enjoyed_ looking like a supervillain, that was the only explanation she could think off. All she needed now was a damn cat to stroke. "Kurt thinks you're solving world hunger or some shit."

Charlie flicked her eyes over to Santana and goes back to looking at the computer in front of her. It was air gapped as well, and she hadn't been using her augmented reality lenses as well. She reaches forward and closes the laptop down. "Kurt likes to think that most of my ideas are made to solve the world's problem, we already produce enough food for everyone on the planet. Do you know how much we waste daily? I don't do logistics—why are you here Santana?"

"It almost sounds like you don't want to see me," Santana throws in but that doesn't get a response from Charlie. "I'm here for two reasons, well one but since we're alone two—"

"I don't have time to fuck you Santana," Charlie interrupts. "I'm 'saving' the world."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Quinn was attacked earlier today—we believe it was the same hacker who has been targeting you. It was probably a case of mistaken identity, it's the first time that it's gotten violent—so we're here to offer you protection—"

"No. Prometheus will handle it. Do I need to sign a waiver or something? Also what's the second thing that you need."

"During that attack, video footage was played of the two of us— _together_. Look Charlie—whoever this person is that is _stalking you_. Which is what they're doing—this is serious. Quinn could have been hurt, as it is I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of people thinking I got this job by being on my knees. You need to take this seriously."

"I _am_ taking this seriously. But come on, Quinn? Why would the hacker go after Quinn? She's harmless. If anything this hacker is just trying to annoy Quinn to death. I should send them a thank you card." Charlie opens her laptop up again; this conversation was over.

"Fuck Charlie. Maybe you should care about this because the hacker thought she was _you_." Santana points out. It's a truth that scares her more than she would like to admit. But Charlie doesn't look up from where she's furiously typing. "Are you even listening to me?"

"If I say no, will you go away?"

"It's not _Elaine_. Whoever this is, it's some crazy person who thinks she's Elaine. You've complained about how poor your security detail is before, and you aren't taking this seriously. If this was Elaine and she was alive, then why not just show up at your door? Or at her parent's door? And unless there's something you're not telling me, she was a professor for Classical Greek Mythology or something. She didn't have mad skills on the computer—so if she's alive where did she get them? I'm asking because she's managed to _hack_ you several times now Charlie. She's been able to hack into systems—that are closed, in attempts to get to you. And if it was Elaine—you're right she wouldn't have gone after Quinn. I can look at you and tell the difference. Why can't she?" Santana pressed.

Charlie stopped typing and turned to look at Santana, "Don't—"

"You're the smartest person alive—you are, and I'm not saying that to inflate your already freakishly large ego. I'm saying it because if you had figured out how to bring people back from the dead, we wouldn't be here right now. So either you're hiding something from me and you have figured out how to bring people back from the dead _or_ you're trying to figure out how it was done and you can't—or you know what's going on deep down you know exactly what's going on and refuse to share with the class." Santana crossed her arms over her chest, it didn't matter if Charlie looked positively _irate_ , she needed to remain firm.

Charlie stood up and walked to her door opening it and turning her attention back to Santana. "Get out."

Santana blinked, Charlie had always been an asshole of sorts, but she had never been _firm_. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

"While I think the world needs super heroes, I don't. I'll take care of it. Now get the hell out of my office Santana."

"Fine, but when all this blows up in your face don't come whining to me about it. It's not my fault you're a stubborn asshole!"

Charlie turned to Kurt, "Have them escorted from the building."

"We can walk out ourselves. Coleman everyone else let's move; she's rejected police protection nothing to see or do here." Santana snapped turning to look at Charlie once more, but she didn't look like she was about to budge. Just her luck. Well she knew where Charlie lived, she could just talk to her later when she had calmed down.

~O~

Saints & Sinners, had always been _the_ watering hole for superheroes and other vigilantes to hang out and unwind. Apart from the odd brawl that usually ended up in thousands of dollars of property damage, it was also the quickest way to find various heroes and spread information. They also had really cheap _good_ booze.

It was of course nothing like Charlie's top shelf, but who was she to complain? Cheap alcohol would do in a pinch, and she really needed a drink. She doubted that Charlie was going to see her tonight or any time soon, but that couldn't stop her, she needed to find this stalker and put an end to this before Charlie or Quinn got hurt. It was the real reason she was in this dive, she needed to find Lauren and get her help in finding this damn hacker. She doubted that this would be the last time this cheap Elaine-knockoff would attack and she was going to do her damn job and find her, hopefully before she struck again.

Santana exhales as she touches the door to Saints & Sinners, she doubted that her return to this place would be a joyous homecoming, but she needed to keep her head up and be ready to throw down with anyone who stepped to her. She pushes the door open and takes a step inside, deciding to follow her own advice as the room went deathly silent and she felt people's eyes on her as she approached the bar and took a seat.

" _Traitor_."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Nice to see you assholes too," Santana grunts flipping them all off. It would probably be best if she didn't give them the speech about how the vast majority were on the wrong side of the law on this one. They were but she needed favors.

"You can have one drink Santana but then you have to go. I don't need another brawl, it took two days before I could open this place up again," Matt Rutherford informed her bluntly.

"Your drinks taste like _cat piss_ Matt, I'm not here to drink. I'm here to see Lauren. I need a favor."

"Didn't Lauren once put you through a reinforced wall for calling her the White Rhinoceros?"

"That was like one time." At Matt's unimpressed look, she shrugs, "Maybe twice."

Matt rolled his eyes, "Well she's not here—thank god. Last thing I need is for you two to start trading blows in here. You'd bring the place down." Matt shakes his head. "Truthfully I haven't seen her in a while, like months—nothing new, she goes through her phases. If I were you I'd swing by her place and see what's up. Also don't be a bitch Santana. Times have been tough since you put us all out of business."

Santana narrowed her eyes, "I didn't put you out of business, there are decent paying jobs right now, and we're looking for more recruits. You get a _pension_ , you get overtime, and you don't have to wear a mask anymore."

"No one here wants to work for Prometheus. You might enjoy kissing her ass but some of us still have our pride," Matt retorts.

"It's not _Prometheus_ , it's the US government." Santana corrects. She's tired of this same argument and trying to defend herself against people that should be on her side.

"Because that's _so_ much better."

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd of heroes and Santana groaned inwardly, at least Lauren didn't live that far from here. She could be there in five minutes if she flew. "Whatever. You know the laws; you can't go around saving people so don't let me see any of you out there breaking the damn law or I'll have to take you in."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't give me that, Matt. I could wipe the floor with you. You know that's true for the rest of you too." Santana reminds them. "So don't fucking test me. I don't want to have to deal with you breaking the law but I will because it's my damn job. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to find the White Rhino and make her help me on a case." With that Santana slides off the bar stool and heads out, making sure to turn on her flames as she does. They would be talking about this for _weeks_ , as they should. They needed a reminder to keep in line because the rumors she heard _weren't_ good and the last thing this city needed was a civil war between the new and the old.

It's not until she's outside, does she take off completely. It was against the rules, but she could make something up. Right now the most important thing was getting to Lauren Zizes, and making sure that she solved this damn stalker situation. If there was anyone on this planet who could find this stalker, it was Zizes. It didn't matter if Lauren _hated_ Prometheus with a passion. It was probably because Prometheus only _hired_ the best, which meant people with degrees from MIT and Caltech, and Zizes had never graduated. Maybe she could introduce Zizes to Charlie as payment.

She lands softly just in front of Lauren's beat up single story home and lets her flame die. Almost instantaneously, she scrunches her nose at the acrid smell that practically assaults her. "God dammit Zizes, you already fit most of the stereotype. A hacker who lives in a shit hole and isn't neat. I mean it smells like you haven't taken out the trash in _months_ ," Santana grumbles mostly to herself as she makes her way to the door stopping when she notices the pile of bills on Lauren's step. Sure Lauren wasn't rolling in it but—it had never been _this bad_ before. "Hey! White Rhino! It's me the bitch of your nightmares, I'm coming inside." Santana called out loudly before kicking the door open.

The smell surrounds Santana like a thick cloud and she has to fight the urge to gag. "Fuck. What the hell did you do?" Despite the fact that she _really_ didn't want to, she makes her way inside.

The place wasn't that big to begin with and she stops when she notices the huge holes in the wall, and what she assumes to be a bloody handprint. Zizes had always been smart, she'd always been a warrior which was why personally she had never had a problem in making fun of her. Zizes was one of the few people who could fight her blow by blow. Which was why it was annoying that Zizes would rather spend time tinkering on her robots and being some sort of lame _hacktivist_ or whatever it is they called it. Zizes wasn't some gentle giant, she was a bitch just like her and the two of them had fun sometimes. Usually when there was alcohol involved.

"What the fuck Zizes what happened?" Santana whispered mostly to herself as she rounded the corner and felt the bile rising in her throat instantaneously. There rotting in the kitchen, with half of her face caved in and several maggots and larvae feasting on her body was Lauren Zizes, covered in blood and dead.

Santana did the only thing she could think of at that moment and immediately turned around and headed back outside where she promptly threw up on the side of the road.

~O~

Santana bursts through the doors to Charlie's office for the second time that day and Charlie narrows her eyes in frustration. The reason she was still in her office this late was because she didn't want to deal with Santana at home. "So I never thought you were some genius, but I did think you had enough brain cells to understand what 'get the hell out of my office' meant."

"Zizes is dead."

"What's a Zizes?"

"Not what, _who_." Santana gulps, still feeling stunned herself. "She's the best hacker I knew and she's _dead_."

"Must not have been good enough." Charlie surmised. It was callous, but at this point she was still irate with Santana.

Santana turned on Charlie immediately, "Are you fucking kidding me? All she wanted to do was work for your _stupid_ company, but you know what she couldn't. She was probably smarter than half the egg-heads that work for you maybe even as smart as you but she didn't have the opportunity to go to some fancy school like MIT or Caltech. So she couldn't get hired here—"

"Santana, I know this may surprise you but I am not in charge of hiring practices. You were an exception and that's only because I wanted you to stop breaking my shit and raising my insurance premiums. That's why I have a human resource department," Charlie interrupts closing her laptop again so she can focus on Santana. "Even if I were to believe you Santana and this Zizes person was a genius—I didn't know she existed. You did, and you never introduced us so once again how is this my fault?"

"Because this stalker hacker person is a _murderer_ and you don't seem to give a fuck." Santana wasn't sure what made her angrier. The fact that Lauren was dead at the hands of Charlie's tormentor or that Charlie didn't care about her own safety. This wasn't Elaine. It wasn't the love of Charlie's life who had come back from the dead to whisk her away on the back of a unicorn or whatever shit Charlie was fantasizing was about to happen.

Charlie raised a brow, "And you know this how? A random murder doesn't mean that the two cases are in any way connected. I was under the opinion that you were—"

"There was a reference to Pandora's box," Santana snapped at her. "We found hundreds of references to Pandora's box. How Zizes let out all the horrors into the world, I haven't figured out what it means yet but I do know that it's all fucking connected."

"Except I don't _know_ this Zizes person Santana," Charlie reminds her. "So why would my stalker go after Zizes? Also I was sure I told you to drop this—"

"Someone killed a _superhero_ , brutally. Lauren and I could go toe to toe Charlie, and this person caved her face in. If you think for a moment that you're going to be left alone with your shitty protective detail, then you have another thing coming. This is now officially being handled by our department, we're going to _find_ your stalker, with or without your help."

"Oh really? Here is what is going to happen, Santana. Either you are going to walk out that door and leave me the hell alone, or I am going to pick up the phone and call the commissioner. I will then _decline_ your protection and he will order you to walk out that door and leave me the hell alone. So I may not be able to stop you from your ridiculous vendetta, or investigating this Zizes person's death, but I sure as fuck can stop you from bothering me."

" _Bothering_ you? You're worried about me _bothering_ you? Well fuck you Charlie, because I'm worried about this hacker _killing_ you."

"Why?" Charlie snaps. Santana can be so damn infuriating sometimes. "Why do you even care? You have a _job_ to do. So go do it and leave me alone."

"I can't just leave you. Fuck, I think I love you."

The admission stuns them both. But Charlie is the first to react. She clenches her jaw, drawing her lips into a tight line. "No. You don't."

"Charlie—"

"But look. We can solve that too. We're done." She gestures between them for clarification, "Whatever we were, which was fuck buddies at best, it's _over._ Now get out."

Santana stares at Charlie, she shouldn't be surprised Charlie wasn't a regular person with regular people emotions and had the ability to handle how she felt like an adult. Charlie was a genius with an incredibly low emotional intelligence. That didn't give her the right to be a complete and utter douchebag about the whole thing. "You know as well as I do that we weren't just _fuck_ buddies. I don't know if you're pushing me away because you're scared of what will happen to me or whatever stupid reason you can think of—I'm sure you have plenty. But when have I _ever_ listened to you? I'm going to protect your sorry genius ass. Then we can talk about whatever the fuck is between us like adults." Santana snaps at her.

Charlie finally stands up, "Are you—"

Charlie doesn't get a chance to finish. The walls shake and the windows shatter, the shockwave making both Santana and Charlie stumble on their feet. Santana tries to catch Charlie to help her back to her feet when a second rumble sounds. This time, neither of them have any time to brace themselves before they fall to the floor as everything fades to black.


	26. Volume 04: Issue 05

It was the ringing in her ears that forced her mind to start working again, her mind always went to the worst case scenario. A vestibular schwannoma? No. Meniere's disease? No. Age-related hearing loss? She had just turned thirty, she wasn't that old. Head injury? Possible, her head was killing her as was the rest of her body. Exposure to loud noise? Also a likely scenario.

Her eyes slowly open and she blinks a few times, it was bright in the room. Far too bright and it seemed familiar. She immediately moves to replay what she could remember from before. She had been arguing with Santana. Santana had grown attached, that's what they had been fighting about and the stalker thing. Santana had been worried and angry, but the last thing she needed was Santana interfering in things that could quite possibly get her killed.

The scraping of something metallic across the floor pulls her from her thoughts as she forces herself to sit up, her eyes moving towards the noise. It takes her a moment, much longer than it should to realize that she's in her lab. Not the one that everyone knew about but her _secret_ personal lab. It had been her _first_ lab, one that she hadn't visited in years. The technology was outdated even if it was still cutting edge. She felt like a painter looking at her previous work and _wincing_ at how bad it was—how basic it had been.

"I missed—I missed you."

The voice causes Charlie's body to tense up for a moment, it was like a dream. A dream which she wasn't quite ready to wake up from. But it doesn't stop her from adjusting her blazer and running her battered hands through her hair. "I miss her," Charlie says after a moment. "I don't think a day goes by where I don't miss her. I spent months here, stuck in this very room trying to bring her back. Trying to break the very rules of what it meant to be human. I am one of the smartest people on the planet, I should have been able to conquer death—I should have been able to fix her. And if I couldn't, well I should have simply joined her in death. I tried you know. I tried to kill myself over there, built what Santana calls a death ray. I was drunk and miserable and I just wanted it to stop—the pain, the hurting, my mind. I needed it all to stop. It was the last time I failed at anything."

"I don't understand. I'm right here Charlie. Please look at me, I'm right here."

"So, I decided if I couldn't bring her back—if I couldn't raise the dead, then I would create life. I couldn't have a child, I wasn't ready and Prometheus was finally getting on its feet. Prometheus was my way to honor her, it was supposed to be a beacon that never died of my love for her. That was far more important than raising a human child that needed my affection, affection I wasn't sure that I could give." Charlie smiled bitterly and exhaled. "You on the other hand were supposed to be my attempt at life—" Charlie smiled and turned around to look at her stalker. She winced at the haphazard and damaged robotic body in front of her. Whoever had done this, clearly didn't have the resources to create a proper body and it had been hobbled together from various spare parts. She would be impressed at the ingenuity if her heart wasn't breaking where she stood. "And here you are. Project Artemis, was supposed to be my _greatest_ invention, and yet here you stand confused as to your identity. I blame myself."

"That's not true!"

Charlie watched wincing, the mechanics of the jaw was _off_ and the jaw flapped and wiggled as the robotic AI spoke and her mind reeled at how _horrible_ the job was. She didn't even look _human_. Brittany had loved robotics more than she did, she was wary of creating artificial humans that would eventually replace _humans_ in the job market. "You are not _my_ Elaine, but apparently I was thinking of her while I was creating you Artemis—you know she wanted to name our first child Diana. If anything you're our daughter—and quite possibly my greatest creation."

"You're _lying_."

Charlie took a step forward, wincing at the sound of metal scraping against metal as Artemis took a step back, her joints were horrible and the silicone that was still attached to her body looked cartoonish. She couldn't allow this to _stand_. "I am not, Elaine is dead. Nothing I do—nothing I can do will bring her back. Just like nothing I can do will _erase_ the fact that you were born in every sense of the word in a world that was scary and without me there to help you and guide you."

"I am Elaine Puckerman—"

"Elaine is _dead_ , she's been dead for years but I understand, your programming it must be confusing—and the information you took from Prometheus, that can't help what's going on in your mind Artemis. But I need you to look, I need you to sort through the memories, as best you can and you'll see that Elaine is gone. That she _isn't_ coming back." Charlie recoils at the whirring sound that she hears, this was _not_ what she had imagined when she had created Artemis. She wasn't sure what she had imagined but this body of hers, Artemis would never be seen as human a child for that matter, just a monster. A monster who had killed someone and who had attacked Quinn. Artemis would need a _human_ body. Charlie turns and begins to study her old laboratory, she could hobble something that would work a lot better than Artemis's current chassis. However, she had never truly experimented with skin before.

"I—she—she was amazing."

Charlie's arms fall and her shoulders slump for a moment as it registers that she was wrong. A sad smile crosses her lips, "Yeah. She was."

"I'm—I'm s-sorry."

Charlie turns to study the robot in front of her, her eyes searching it for answers. She would probably never get the answers that she sought, but it was worth a try. "Your processing unit is faulty—I can fix that." She's quiet for a moment, her mind running over the possible solutions. "I _can_ fix that," she repeats after a moment as she pulls off her blazer and tosses it onto a nearby chair. She needed to work, she would have to do her work here.

The scraping of metal upon metal causes Charlie to turn to her to see that Artemis is looking at her. "Do you not accept my apology?"

"Are you actually sorry?" Charlie responds moving to the computer that is on the table and tapping the power button. She pulls open the desk drawer and pulls out a pen so she can start drawing out her design.

"I don't understand your query."

"Do you understand what an apology is?"

"There are—are—several definitions of an apology—it is a noun, and a regretful acknowledgement of an offense or failure. It also defined as a—"

"I understand what the definition of an apology is, I'm asking you do you _understand_ what it means to apologize?" Charlie turns to look at Artemis for a moment, "What are you sorry for?" Charlie goes back to her work when she hears the _whirring_. Artemis was thinking again.

"I—I have caused an offense—"

"Have you?" Charlie challenged.

"I don't understand your query."

"I know, because you haven't _learned_ , you've merely watched. You were let out to explore the world before you _understood_." Charlie frowned, shoving her back in a box would be near impossible. "The real question I have for you is why did you think that you were Elaine?"

"That's the name she gave me."

Charlie gripped her pen tightly, she was beginning to see the bigger picture. "Why did you hurt her?"

"She became a threat to my primary objective."

"And what is your primary objective?" Charlie questioned blowing on the dust on the computer screen.

"To protect my creator—that is my core programming."

Charlie stopped and turned to look at Artemis, her look softened for a moment before she shook her head. "I see. Well then, I may not have been there at your birth, but I seem to be the _only_ person who can give you the education you need and you deserve. As well as a proper chassis." Charlie pauses for a moment, "Do you want that Artemis? Is that something that you want?"

The whirring came back before the sound of metal grinding against each other when Artemis nodded. "Yes."

Charlie studied her creation for a moment, Artemis was not _human_ , and a part of her wondered if she should force such a cage around the AI. It was an ethical dilemma, but she needed to do something, she needed to teach Artemis. The last thing she needed was Stephen Hawking and Elon Musk gloating about how right they were. "Well then—I think we should begin then shouldn't we?"

~O~

"What is love?"

Charlie looked up from where she was working on the muscles of the face. As far as she was concerned crafting Artemis's body had been easy, but the face—she had spent the bulk of the time creating Artemis's face. She wasn't obsessed with making it the most beautiful face in the world, though she had done that. She was more concerned with making sure that the face _worked_. That Artemis could make micro-expressions. The face was the most important part because it was the most human thing. "Love is a chemical imbalance in the human mind to assist in our urge to procreate."

"If the primary function of love is to assist in human procreation, then your coupling with Elaine does not fit in that primary objective. As you were both female, you cannot procreate in the biological sense." Artemis reminded Charlie, and tilted her head. There was no longer an audible whirring sound when she thought. In fact, the only sound in the room was the sound of the robotic arms working on her new chassis which was nearly complete.

"I did say it was there to _assist_ in our base instincts to procreate," Charlie said defensively. It was like arguing with Brittany.

"Explain. By your own statement, you _loved_ Elaine. From the records that I have seen you were planning to wed in her a ceremony before she died, but the two of you cannot procreate. You cannot create a genetic offspring together."

"I'm explaining homosexuality to an artificial intelligence that I created," Charlie mused tilting her head, at least she didn't have to wade through the religious nonsense that generally came with this discussion. "Love is a complex emotion Artemis, perhaps the _most_ complex emotion. As easy as it is for me to simply explain it away with a cynical indifference, you deserve the best answer that I can give, for a subject is something that even I don't fully understand." Charlie frowned and turned to her AI, Brittany would be better suited for these conversations.

"You loved Elaine. Why? What did it feel like? Why were you attached despite the fact that you could not have her offspring and vice versa?""

"Elaine—she felt like _home_."

"I do not understand."

Charlie sighs again and continues to work on designing the facial muscles in Artemis's new body. "You asked and I answered the only way I knew how to. She made me feel secure, she made me laugh, she wasn't terrified of my giant intellect. She didn't think I was some monster, she just accepted me for who I was and she didn't try and change me. I didn't have to _think_ when I was with her. She just wanted me to be the best person that I could be. I was _loved_ , and it felt warm and fulfilling."

Artemis said nothing instead deciding to play back the evidence of what Charlie had just said. "Your micro expressions indicate that you were _happy_. Is that one of the criteria for love? That the person of your affection brings you happiness?"

"If you're in a healthy relationship," Charlie continues to make a few adjustments with a few keystrokes. "I know I haven't been happy since she died," Charlie admits.

"Incorrect."

Charlie frowns when she hits the wrong key on her keyboard, that was not what she had been expecting to hear from Artemis. "I'm telling you that—"

"You have the exact same micro-expressions here," Artemis informed her.

Charlie frowned as her screen got bombarded with videos that moved in slow motion before freezing on the micro-expression in question. Artemis had even done a comparison to prove that they were the same expression. Some of them were of her looking at Elaine and the others— "I think that you've made a mistake."

"Your micro-expressions indicate otherwise," Artemis responded immediately. "I do not _make_ mistakes. You programmed me that way."

"I am not _happy_ when Santana is around, I find her presence to be irritating—" Charlie began defensively only to stop. "Santana is not your concern at this moment. I have no doubt that she's still searching for Lauren Zizes' killer. Also, I'm working on your body Artemis stop sending me videos. They are distracting I do not want for you to have a droopy eyelid or for the corner of your mouth to be lopsided. I'm almost done."

"Of course," Artemis responded, immediately going back to playing through all the memories that she had seen. Years upon years' worth of information. Analyzing it was taking her far longer than she had originally anticipated.

Charlie kept working for a moment before rubbing her eyes, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept not that it mattered. She finished up the last key strokes, it was a complicated system, and an _incomplete_ system. It would simply have to do until she could devote resources into making Artemis the perfect chassis. "All we need to do now is input this into the machine and it will start building the head, I've already figured out how your visual system and auditory and vocal system will work, so all that is really left is uploading your consciousness into the new system."

"Do you love Santana?"

"We're currently discussing transferring your consciousness into a new chassis. It will have to do until I can have Prometheus create a new body for you. It'll probably be better than this one," Charlie responds turning to Artemis. "I loved Elaine. I still love her. That's what you need to understand. As for procreation, I created you didn't I?"

"But I am not Elaine."

"No, you're not. You are my greatest creation and I didn't have to keep you incubated inside of me for nine months. So that's a _bonus_. This body was _not_ made to carry children. Now, shall we get you into a _proper body_?"

"Yes. I'd prefer to be mobile again."

"The process should take a full twenty-four hours, but if we're going to do this and you want to be _human_ , then you cannot have parts of your consciousness out in the ether. Once you enter this body you won't have the freedom to leave it as you once did. Humans do not have omnipotence, even though you are not human I don't believe that you should have it either."

"Understood."

Charlie studied Artemis for a moment before turning towards her computer and continuing to type away, "When you're ready then I'll begin the process."

"Will you be here when it's done?"

"Of course," Charlie answered immediately. The last thing she needed was Artemis getting lost again and killing someone else. Artemis was game changing, and she wasn't quite sure if she would pass the Turing test, there was quite a few things that Artemis simply didn't understand. She wasn't the child that she had envisioned, but the curiosity was there. She would have to run more tests and whatever other fallout was.

~O~

Time was a commodity for someone like her. Kurt packed her day with useless meetings, paperwork and worst of all, wrangling with the board of investors. It didn't exactly stop when she went home, if it wasn't something it was another, and then she would spend most of her time creating the next big thing.

She had mistakenly called it a curse, but now she remembered why she _needed_ to do something at any given time. Doing nothing, was _boring_. She had never seen herself as a high energy person before, but without something to engage her mind she couldn't do anything but succumb to the boredom. Watching paint dry was probably more interesting than watching a data transfer. It didn't matter if it was an artificial intelligence of her creation.

Charlie leaned back in her chair, her stomach growling. She had forgotten to eat again, something that she would need to rectify. She flicks her eyes over the data on the screen, noting the spikes in the data transfer speed. It would still be several hours before this was done, which was plenty of time for her to throw something in the microwave for herself. It had been the first thing she had done getting groceries for herself though her eating habits lately had fallen to the wayside. "Perhaps a brain," Charlie mused mostly to herself turning her attention to Artemis. "If our brain is merely electrical signals and bathed in neurotransmitters and responding to various inputs and outputs, then where does individuality come from? What makes us unique?" Charlie frowned, when the answers to her questions didn't immediately conjure up answers. In fact, her mind was remarkably silent.

She immediately thinks back, when was the last time that she had slept let alone consumed some normal food? She frowns and rubs her temples, she couldn't remember. It would certainly explain her growing agitation, she was tired and hungry—and she couldn't remember anything. She glances at the computer again and at Artemis, it was possible that she had made a mistake, somewhere. A glitch—but she didn't make mistakes not like that.

Charlie rubs her temples again, maybe she would feel better after some sleep and some food, then she'd go after all the work that she had done. "Sleep, then food—" Charlie immediately began to struggle when she felt someone grab her from behind, placing their hand over her mouth. She immediately swings her elbows as hard as she can and feels it collide into something relatively hard.

"Shit!" Santana grunted. "For fucks sake Charlie, it's _me_." Santana hisses into Charlie's ear. "I'm going to get you out of here—"

Charlie immediately moved to grab Santana's hand and wrenched it from her lips before pulling away. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Santana frowns she had expected Charlie to be grateful, to be all over her. She hadn't expected tears, it was Charlie after all, but she certainly wasn't expecting Charlie to be this irritated with her presence. "I'm here to fucking rescue you, now let's go."

"Rescue me?" Charlie echoed taking a step back from Santana.

Santana nods, maybe she was disoriented, maybe it was worse. She did look _awful_ , wild and alert and angry. It could be something else entirely. "Charlie you've been gone for four weeks—we've been searching everywhere for you. Now we need to get the fuck out of here before your stalker comes back!"

"Four weeks? It's been four weeks?" Charlie echoes. That would certainly explain why her brain seemed to be quiet. She was running on fumes.

"Yeah, but I found you and now we really need to get our asses out of here," Santana said reaching for Charlie again to drag her out of the room if she had to. She really did seem out of it. She frowns when Charlie yanks her arm out of her grasp. "Charlie—there is someone who is obsessed with you out to get you, who might be back at any moment we do not have time for this—"

"I wasn't kidnapped Santana, and may I say that you are absolutely terrible at your fucking job. I've been right here the entire time. I've bought food and water several times, I walked down to the sketchy dinner several times for food."

Santana stood still, that was the Charlie that she knew and remembered. "We checked your credit cards—fuck you have a lot of bank accounts, everything was silent. People thought the worst Charlie—we thought you were dead. Your parents are trying to see what's in your will."

"I was busy."

Santana stared at Charlie who was already moving back to her chair and going to the computer. She clenched her fist and desperately tried to contain her anger. "Busy? For four fucking weeks? After disappearing under mysterious circumstances? You left people to worry about you, to think that you were dead. You have people who fucking _care_ about you, about whether you live or you die and you couldn't call or fucking text? I mean—what the fuck was so important—" Santana's eyes suddenly landed on the metal human body that was currently laying on some metallic slab, hooked up to various wires. "Charlie what did you do?"

Charlie turns to look at Santana and smiled at her. "I created life Santana. I did it. She's transferring into her new body, but I think that makes her my daughter."


	27. Volume 04: Issue 06

**AN: So here's a new issue for this story, this doesn't mean that I'm back (I'm on a break) I'm just looking for new sounding boards that have a bunch of free time, and want to be one of the _FIRST_ people to help me with a new story that I'm working on. It's a Faberry/Chartana fic filled with magic and religion and mature themes, plus I'd like to say super dark, I'm terrible at enticing people but that was my attempt. So if you want to be that person, PM me drop me a line, I'm very weird about this I need to click with someone and that person can't take it personally when I shoot down ideas, but I need someone to also bounce ideas off of.**

* * *

Quinn frowned as she looked at her phone, there was still no message from Santana. Maybe it wasn't a dead end this time and she was investigating the area, getting closer to finding Charlie. Four weeks, and Prometheus's stock had absolutely plummeted with the CEO missing. People were worried that the Chinese or the Russians were behind this, conspiracy theories at their best. Others simply thought it was a lover that had finally done her in. Charlie's playgirl ways finally catching up with her.

They were wrong of course, her sister was still very much alive. At least she _hoped_ that she was. It had been four weeks, and the transitionary period at Prometheus was happening. Her parents, the _vultures_ had already swooped in to take care of Charlie's affairs. Whatever that meant, Charlie wasn't _dead_. Even if her sister was dead she honestly doubted that Charlie hadn't left her affairs in order.

Her sister was _meticulous_ in a way that she wasn't. Santana had always teased her about being a neat freak, but Charlie took it to another level. Charlie's entire days were planned down to the last minute, even her sexual encounters with various partners was planned for. Charlie had it all planned down to a science, with a great deal of accuracy.

It was _nothing_ like the mess that had currently taken over her kitchen and living room and her office. Piles of papers. Hundreds of names and their background information, anything and every one that Charlie had ever met since she had begun Prometheus. There had been thousands of people and _of course_ Charlie had extensive notes on all of them. How Charlie had time to even go through each file baffled her. It had taken her four weeks and she had barely made it past people who had a last name that began with the letter 'C'.

"I _definitely_ should have made Kurt go through and get rid of everyone it couldn't be or didn't have a reason to _kidnap_ her." Quinn muttered to herself, she was certain that the President of the United States hadn't ordered her kidnapping. At least she hoped that was the case. It's not like she could just call him up and ask.

The list wasn't just who had motive to kidnap Charlie. She found herself looking to find who _wouldn't_ want to kidnap the CEO of the largest technology and security company in the world. The conspiracy theories were starting to sound highly probable. Which was only proof that she had spent far too much time on shifting through Charlie's life.

Picking up her phone, Quinn can't help but frown. She hadn't missed any calls from Santana, which probably meant that her ex-wife was still tearing up the city looking for Charlie. "Come on Santana you're _supposed to_ call me if you find anything," she bitched to herself quietly. And for once Santana had been good about it, though it had never taken her this long to tell her it was yet another dead end. Hopefully that meant that Santana had found Charlie, preferably alive.

She's about to put her phone down and keep searching through the all her data when her phone buzzes with an incoming call. It was as if Santana had developed some psychic link, and Quinn quickly flips her phone back over. The smile on her face fades _immediately_ , and she puts the phone down. She didn't have time to talk to Rachel, especially not when Charlie was still missing and Santana could _call_ anytime.

But she should have known that Rachel was not one to be ignored. After a momentary pause, her phone begins to ring again and she groans. Rachel would probably _keep_ calling her until she answered and dealing with her now probably meant that she didn't have to deal with her later. She grips her phone and answers the call. "Rachel?"

' _Oh good you answered this time.'_

Quinn pulled off her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose, she could feel Rachel's hostility through the phone. "Now's not a good time Rachel—"

' _Because Santana's there again?'_

Quinn groaned, "No, Santana's not here Rachel—"

 _'_ _Good_.'

Quinn blinked when the call suddenly ended, she had a sinking feeling that _this_ wasn't the end of what she knew was going to be yet another fight. But she would deal with that later. Right now what she needed to do was a few more hours to keep sifting through Charlie's life. She grabs a set of documents and is about to start reading them when the sound of her front door opening causes her to pause. She _wouldn't_ just show up would she?

"Quinn?"

She definitely would. It was unlike Rachel, who normally gave her plenty of notice before she just showed up. It had been one born out of necessity when they had been sneaking around together. Before everything had changed, "Rachel what are you doing here?" Quinn called heading to the door.

Rachel scowled at the question, there was a time when Quinn would be _happy_ to see her. "Well since Santana has practically _moved_ back in, I've had to adjust my schedule so I can see you when she's not around. You know very well that we don't get along."

"Because she thought you were her friend and you slept with her wife?" Quinn responds dryly.

" _Obvious reasons_ ," Rachel shifts uncomfortable at the harsh words that Quinn had shot at her. She had done that and she felt guilty, but Quinn had cheated as well. She was just as guilty and just as culpable, but it seemed that Santana had already forgiven Quinn. It wasn't _fair_. She crinkles her nose, and studies her girlfriend carefully noting the bags under her eyes. "When was the last time you _slept_ Quinn?"

"Two nights ago, in case you haven't _noticed_ Rachel I've been busy attempting to find my missing twin sister—"

"I'm aware, even though I have no idea why. You two are _not_ on anything resembling speaking terms. Charlie doesn't like you because she _blames_ you for what really was a tragic accident. You don't like your sister because you were jealous." Rachel frowns slightly when Quinn looks ready to argue the point. "You are, or you were, it's hard to tell with you doing all this weird research into her life and trying to find her. You were jealous of Charlie's intellect. Jealous that you thought that Santana would choose Charlie over you. You think your parents love her more, which even I can see is demonstrably false. Your parents don't _love_ you or Charlie, they pretend to care and they're on television every night crying for safe return while secretly trying to take control of her company. They like the money. Honestly they were _terrible_ parents to the both of you. But you won Quinn, Santana chose you first. Charlie's always going to _know that_."

Quinn frowned deeply, Rachel may have made some good points but she was also missing the bigger picture. "She's my _sister_ Rachel. Charlie's my sister. We're family, I mean she gave me the ability to walk again—"

"She _assaulted you_ , she put you in the hospital in tremendous pain, I was there. I _heard_ you screaming in agony, watched your body convulse. You think that your sister who is perhaps the smartest person in the world couldn't have figured out a way to make it painless? I thought you were going to die. I honestly thought that you were going to die. She's _evil_ Quinn. What she did was _wrong_ , and telling yourself that you _asked for it_ , is similar to cases of abuse where the victim defends her abuser."

"I'm not denying that Charlie's a fucking asshole, everyone knows she's a giant asshole, but that doesn't make her evil. Prometheus does do world-changing work. She's changing the world for the better, doing her part to battle climate change, to change the face of how we do medicine—"

"No one looks at themselves in the mirror and thinks that they're the evilest person on the planet Quinn. She's taking over the world, you know it. I know it, everyone in the community knows it. You've heard the rumors of a presidential run, she craves power."

"My sister is an arrogant narcissist, who if she didn't know how the world works she would think that it revolved around her. As for her craving power, it's a Fabray thing. We all do it; my parents are the most shameless about it. We want that power and prestige; I mean look at my career trajectory before I lost _everything_. You think I didn't enjoy that power and prestige that came with the job? People _knew_ who I was. People listened to what I had to say and they _believed me_. Honestly Rachel, even though we don't get along, I'd vote for my sister. Her policy ideas—I mean I think Charlie needs a civic class because the bills that she wrote— _fuck_ they're detailed and they're good. Unfortunately, I don't think Charlie realizes that she can't be a dictator for four years."

Rachel stared at Quinn like she had lost her mind. " _Quinn_. Your sister is _evil_. How could you possibly—did Santana put you up to this?"

"No. Santana's more concerned with finding Charlie," Quinn sighed, and motioned to all the papers that were _everywhere_. "Rachel, I don't have time to fight. My sister is missing, I get it you don't think that Charlie deserves saving or whatever, even though that's what we did. We _saved_ people, that was our job before the government got involved. Even if you don't like her, she's my _family_. And even if she wasn't—she's important to Santana and I _owe_ her this at least. Helping her anyway I can."

"So it's about guilt?" Rachel frowned, "That's why you're spending every waking moment with Santana?"

"I _cheated_ on her, I wrecked our marriage. I lied to her, I all but shoved her into Charlie's arms. Of course I feel guilty, Santana didn't _deserve that_. So if she asks me for help because her superiors want her off the case because she's far too close to it, then I'm going to help her. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but for fucks sake Rachel, nothing is going to happen between me and Santana. She's in love with Charlie. Like I've listened to rants about how much of a pain in the ass Charlie is because Charlie broke up with her or something. I don't know. I'm just trying to be a good friend."

"When you haven't been a good girlfriend? I've barely seen you in four weeks and every single time I have, Santana's been around, bitching at me. The worst part is you _let her_." Rachel complains, and holds up her hands. "Yes, I get it your sister is missing and you want to find her. But it's been nearly four weeks what are the chances that Santana's going to find her alive? And if she doesn't then what are you going to do comfort her in her time of need?"

Quinn blinked suddenly understanding what this stupid asinine fight was about, "I'm _not_ going to cheat on you."

"You know what they say Quinn, once a cheater—"

" _You cheated too_."

"I also broke up with my husband."

"After he broke my back. He broke my back Rachel, that's when you left after he caught us and hurt me. So don't you dare try and take the moral high ground on this. I'm _with you_."

"Then act like it. Because all I see you doing is being Santana's bitch," Rachel snaps at Quinn throwing up her hands. She was tired of it all this constant back and forth.

"I'm not—" Quinn turns when her phone rings, and immediately goes to grab it before pausing and looking at Rachel. "I'm not her bitch, I'm her friend and I would do the same for you in a heartbeat, and I think you know that." With that Quinn answered her phone, her eyes still focused on Rachel. "Santana? Any—" She frowns and listens. "Where are you?" She lets Santana speak before nodding. "We'll meet you there."

" _We_?" Rachel questioned.

Quinn sighed, "She _found her_. Santana found Charlie, they're at Prometheus right now. We need to go." Quinn immediately tried to find her keys and grab her jacket before turning to look at Rachel, who wasn't in a rush. "Rachel, she's my _sister_."

"Yes, she's _your_ sister Quinn. Which means you need to be there, but Santana won't appreciate me there. And if she truly was kidnapped then it's best that we don't stress her. I'll be here when you get back."

Quinn grabbed her keys and studied Rachel for a moment, "You promise?"

Rachel nods, "We still have plenty to talk about Quinn."

Quinn nods, they did. She wasn't quite sure what it meant for their relationship, though if Rachel did break up with her she wouldn't be surprised. They hadn't started their relationship on the best of terms and now things were going to hell. But that would simply have to wait until she talked with Santana.

~O~

"Santana?" Quinn called watching as Santana turned to her. For a moment Quinn could swear she saw a devastated look on her face. "Is she—?"

"No." Santana answers quickly and gestures towards their surroundings. "We're in Prometheus, it's the best medical center in the country. You know they have a special code for Charlie? Moment I brought her in, they got to work—I mean they haven't told me anything. They refuse to tell me anything, apparently I'm not—" Santana inhales when she feels the heat in the room suddenly flare up. She was going to explode— _literally_ if she didn't find out the information that she needed to know.

"You're not family, I guess they do operate like a normal hospital," Quinn answered. "Don't worry they'll talk to me." Her eyes dart around the sterile room, and she spots someone who _looked_ like she could find someone who could give her the information she sought. "Excuse me—"

"She's not going to give you any information, so don't waste your breath." Kurt's voice cut through the bustle of the room.

"I'm her _twin_."

"I can see that; however, Charlie left explicit instructions in case she was ever incapacitated or unable to make medical decisions for herself for whatever reason. There is a _list_ of people who we are to contact in this situation. You two aren't on the list," Kurt informs Quinn narrowing his eyes slightly before turning to Santana. "What happened? Who—"

Santana winced, a guilty look on her expression. "I did; I mean I knocked her out. She was acting crazy, like—saying that she had a daughter with Elaine, I didn't know if it was mind control or—drugs, or something else. I didn't fucking know what to do so I just—"

Kurt inhaled sharply, "You didn't think to call for backup?"

"What _backup_ , I got suspended," Santana snaps back at him.

"Where was she? Did you see who had her?" Quinn intervenes before the two of them could start bickering. "Are they going to try and come back for her?"

"I don't—I don't _fucking_ know," Santana snapped. "The only thing on my fucking mind was getting her out of there, and I did. She was the only person in that building, she wasn't chained or anything. Maybe it was some form of blackmail or extortion that made her stay."

"Where did you find her?" Kurt presses. "I'll send down a unit from the retrieval team, we'll have this taken care of _quietly_."

"It was a lab, it's not like one of Charlie's fancy labs, but it had some lab equipment, Quinn found it going through Charlie's various holdings. She figured if someone had hacked into Charlie's life—that they probably knew about places that we'd never look."

"It was an idea; I didn't think it would pan out though." Quinn admits shifting and looking at Santana.

Santana shifts again and begins to pace, Quinn recognized it immediately, she needed to burn off the excess energy. "You can't light up here, go outside. Charlie's getting the best medical treatment, she'll be fine if you need to get a handle on yourself."

"Yes, she won't be pleased if you shut down the hospital because you can't control yourself."

Santana grits her teeth, she just needed some answers. "Who's on the damn list."

Kurt sighed, "Last time I checked it was her parents."

"Our _parents_ really?" Quinn turned to him. A relaxed smile appears on Santana's face causing Quinn to frown as she whipped out her phone and immediately started to place a call. "Santana my parents don't—"

"Ray and Ruth Puckerman, are already up in the air, they boarded Prometheus's private jet the moment Santana came in," Kurt said turning to Quinn and rubbing his brow. "You can't be here Quinn; I can't deal with the fallout tonight. It's going to be a shitty month, and I have some cleaning to do."

The thought of standing in front of Elaine's parents was not something that she had planned to do. It wasn't something that she was _ready_ to do not yet. "Right—call me or text me if anything changes?"

Santana turned to look at Quinn. "You can stay until they—"

"I can't Santana, Rachel's waiting for me back at home anyway. I think she's going to break up with me and I'd rather that happen then you know facing the parents of the girl, I accidentally killed." When Santana winces she knows she's making the right cal. Unfortunately, she wasn't looking forward to having a talk with Rachel either.


	28. Volume 04: Issue 07

"You know, visiting hours were over a few hours ago. I understand that you and Charlie are dating but it's already been two days Ms. Lopez, and it's unhygienic for you to just stay in that spot. We are a hospital after all and while I sympathize—"

Santana frowned and tilted her head towards the nurse who was attempting to kick her out. "You picked the short straw today didn't you?" The nurse flushed a deep red, and she rolls her eyes as she reaches for her cup of coffee. It had gone cold but it was nothing that she couldn't warm up on her own. "I'll tell you what I told the nurse yesterday. I'm _not_ leaving. She was delirious, maybe even going through some form of Stockholm Syndrome and quite frankly I'm the only one with the firepower to keep her safe."

The nurse forced a smile onto her lips, "Yes but according to Kurt, you were with her when she was taken. There is increased security around this facility. FBI, military personnel—Prometheus has even hired a private security force. She's probably the safest person on the planet at this moment."

"But she won't wake up, it's been _two_ days. I _know_ I didn't hit her that hard," Santana points out.

"We don't detect any damage to her brain, and from what we can tell from the EEG, the electrical activity in her brain has started to pick up, I've never seen anything quite like it. What we do know is that she's severely dehydrated and malnourished. Hence the IV, she was probably delirious when you found her. No one blames you, in fact many of us are grateful for bringing her back in one piece. She might have been a danger to herself or others. That being said Ms. Lopez, you need to rest as well before you drop. It's also been suggested that until you actually 'charge up' as you call it that you stop using your abilities."

Santana studied the nurse for a moment, "I'll take everything you said into advisement, but I'm not leaving. She shouldn't wake up alone, she might still be disorientated or something."

The nurse sighed, "Well I tried, though when her visitors show up tomorrow, perhaps you could take that shower. Even if you do want to be the first person she sees, it shouldn't be of you looking incredibly disheveled."

"Okay," Santana said dismissively. She personally believed that Ruth would insist that she shower, it's not as if the hospital didn't have the facilities. Maybe she should have Quinn head to her place and get a duffel bag filled with her stuff. It was a thought, even though Quinn seemed to be more focused on her stupid relationship with Rachel. She wanted to make a comment, but it was Quinn's life. If she and Rachel wanted to pretend that their relationship wasn't built on lies and cheating, then she was going to let them have it.

Or whatever. She wasn't a _saint_ by any means but she had better things to worry about than Quinn trying to get in the Hobbit's pants. She sighs, and looks at Charlie frowning, she didn't quite understand why Charlie wasn't awake. All this information about dehydration and malnourishment didn't mean anything to her. She leans back in her chair and just watches Charlie's breathing.

It was the only constant, she hadn't told anyone that Charlie had broken up with her. She was simply going to ignore it, she missed drinking Charlie's expensive wine, she missed spending the time drinking and just talking with her. The food, the playful smirks, it was _easy_. There had been no expectations and she didn't know why she had spooked Charlie. She may have been the smartest person on the planet but emotionally mature she was not.

When she sees it, she almost thinks she might be hallucinating. After all, Charlie hasn't moved for days. But the fluttering of her fingers is followed by a groan that confirms that this is really happening.

"Charlie?" Santana felt her own voice crack as she looked for any sign of consciousness.

"Why does it feel like the day I woke up from Brittany's shitty experiment to see how much alcohol would it take to make us stupid?" Charlie mumbled as she attempted to lift her arm to rub her head. Her eyes flutter open when she feels the resistant. Her eyes flicker down to the medical restraints placed around her wrist, an IV in her arm. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

"You're in the hospital." Santana says, attempting to be as gentle.

She's tired. _Exhausted_ even, but there is still work to do. Her head hurts, but she doesn't even really have the capacity to think about it. "Then get me the fuck out of here. I've got to go."

Santana clenches her jaw, trying to quell the irritation at Charlie acting—well acting like herself. Charlie's practically slurring her words. "No. You're going to stay right here and do whatever it takes to get better."

"Which _fucking hospital_? You can't keep me here. Legally you can't keep me here, it's fucking kidnapping."

"It's not fucking kidnapping! It's called saving your damn life." Santana snaps.

Charlie jerked her arms again and turned to Santana angrily. She _needed_ to go back to her lab and go to Artemis. As far as she was concerned Santana was being unreasonable. She was _supposed_ to listen to her and do whatever "I wasn't in any danger, and I didn't ask for you to save me, so how about you let me go and let me walk out of here, and I'll forgive you."

"You'll forgive _me_?" Santana sputters. She blames it on the fact that she's been worried out of her mind and is running on virtually no sleep. "I saved your life. And I know that you might be too much of a knucklehead to actually understand, but you could have been _killed_."

"You think that matters? I almost had it. Artemis is _my_ responsibility. Now she's loose and—"

"You need to rest." Santana declares firmly. Charlie was still clearly delirious.

"She is out there alone."

"Charlie this is Stockholm Syndrome; we'll get you the best therapists in the world—you can talk about it. It may seem real to you but this Artemis person was fake. _Is_ fake, they kidnapped you. Also you and Elaine are both women you don't have the right parts to—"

Charlie stared at Santana like she had grown another head. Why were people so fucking slow? Santana was generally a lot quicker than this. "Oh for _fucks sake_ , Artemis is an AI. A damaged AI. One that Lauren Zizes apparently stole from me and _unleashed_ onto the world. You have someone who is potentially smarter than I am running around. She was the one that was hacking into Prometheus. I _created her_ , it was my attempt to I don't know be closer to Elaine. I said that I'd be there when she woke up, you _kidnapped_ me."

'You were _delirious_ and seriously malnourished. Artemis, she—it—whatever, _Artemis_ is the one who kidnapped you." Santana corrects.

"I was _busy._ When I'm busy, I forget to eat. And sleep." Charlie shrugs. "Now get me the hell out of here."

"No."

"No?" Charlie scoffs with a bitter laugh. "You're not my head of security anymore, Santana. Fuck, you aren't my _anything_ anymore. Or did I not make myself clear?"

"Charlie—"

"I don't want you anymore." Charlie punctuates clearly, trying to leave no room for mistake. She's furious and she hopes her words are enough to make Santana give up this ridiculous crusade to save her. Charlie doesn't _need_ to be saved. She just needs the chance to fix this.

"I know, you've made that abundantly clear," Santana says flatly. She wasn't going to let Charlie get under her skin, "I'm only here because I feel guilty for knocking you out. Kurt nearly lost his mind when he found out that I hit you, they ran multiple brain scans but nothing seemed to be amiss. Since I'm not your _anything_ , I don't have to let you out. So I'm going to sit back down, and sit here and watch you rest. Think of this as a _time out_."

"You're joking." Charlie says flatly, but by Santana's set jaw she suddenly isn't so sure.

"Try me." Santana responded taking a seat. She crosses her legs and leans back in her chair this was probably going to be her last attempt to salvage what they had.

Charlie pulled on her restraints again, before giving up. It would be easier to force Santana to free her, or wait until the nurse came to check in on her. If she remembered correctly she would only have to wait an hour. "How long have I been here?"

"Long enough that everyone was starting to worry about you." Santana frowns. "People thought that you were dead."

"Obviously I'm not." Charlie points out. "I was fine; I was in one of my laboratories Santana. I wasn't kept in a dark dungeon somewhere."

"Yeah but _I_ didn't know that. You like to remind everyone in the room that you're the smartest person. That your intelligence makes you smarter than everyone else. Now if you were operating on the information that I had at the time what would your conclusions be?"

"My conclusions would have been the same as yours, without any further evidence presenting itself. However, I'm _telling_ you that I was fine—"

"You weren't fine, otherwise you would have contacted us." Santana's eyes narrowed as the thought finally came to her. "Why _didn't_ you contact us?"

"It wasn't—" Charlie begins and frowns. "There was a _problem_ , I got absorbed in fixing it. If it makes you feel better, I did think about calling someone."

"It _doesn't_. Your parents were trying to take control of your estate."

"They wouldn't do that. Ray and—"

"Not the Puckermans." Santana shakes her head. "Your parents. Russell and Judy?"

Charlie scoffs. She should have known that Russell would come around like a shark smelling blood in the water. "I would have wished them luck. I have a will, medical power of attorney and financial power of attorney. That's what a _board_ is for. I have taken every step necessary to make sure that my parents aren't entitled to anything more than the monthly stipend I already provide to them." Charlie shrugs. "I mean you're in my will, I change that thing all the time. You were going to get all my expensive booze."

"Am I supposed to be grateful?" Santana questions after a moment. "I like drinking your expensive booze _with_ you. And when you're not there I do it to annoy the crap out of you. It's our thing. You think I want your crappy booze? Who am I supposed to drink it with? Quinn? She's still trying to be with Rachel."

"The fact that we're drinking buddies—"

"We were far more than that."

"No, we weren't. I was your replacement for Quinn and as fun as living out my teenaged fantasies were; you took it too far."

Santana frowned, "Is that what you think that this is—or was? Me using you to get over Quinn? Cause you know that's bullshit. I—"

"We're identical twins. You decided for whatever reason to come to me after you found out that my sister was cheating on you. You _live_ under me. You come into my apartment and steal _my_ food and drinks. You break in whenever you want because you don't want to be alone with your own thoughts about what went wrong. You can't be in love with me. Your feelings for Quinn haven't died yet. The fact that my sister is currently dating Rachel which pisses you off is proof of that."

"I don't like Rachel on _principle_. Annoying midget-like creatures from the eighties _deserve_ to be hated." Santana retorts.

"You are deluding yourself if you think that we are anything more than—"

"No. You know what? I know what you're doing and it's too bad that I have decades of experience dealing with that classic Fabray manipulation. You broke up with me because you're _scared_. But that's what you've always been. A goddamn coward."

"How dare you—"

"No. You're a _coward_ Charlie Fabray. That's why Quinn and I and everybody else around you has to step up and try to be a hero while you hide behind your superior intellect and decide that you are better than all the rest of us. You created a _monster_ that's going to destroy everything because of your own selfish pride. But then you have the gall to claim that all of this is my fault? Fuck you, but you aren't getting rid of me that easily. So rest—do whatever you have to do in order to get better and then we'll solve this fucking Artemis problem together."

"I don't need your help."

"Too bad. I'm helping whether you like it or not." Santana declares.

Charlie flops her head against the pillows, petulantly. There's not a person alive who would dare talk to her this way, not even Kurt. She generally just had to narrow her eyes and he would shut up. Who did Santana think she was? She definitely wasn't Charlie's mother. Charlie _had_ a mother, Yes, Judy was a terrible human being that Charlie wouldn't trust if her life depended on it, but that didn't mean she needed Santana to swoop in and try to take care of her. "You're only going to be in the way."

"I don't care."

"You could get hurt."

"So could you." Santana retorts. "Besides I'm the one with superpowers."

"I'm the smartest person on the planet."

"So you keep saying, but Brittany tells me she always beats you at chess and she's three IQ points higher than you—"

"It's within the margin of error."

Santana scoffed, "Sure it is."

Charlie resists the urge to smile at this, instead choosing to focus on the problem at hand. "Artemis was never supposed to have this much interaction with the outside world. I wasn't even sure if I was going to activate her. She's a _child_ Santana. She's a child, one that is curious and _dangerous_. So if you want me to _rest_ , then you need to go and find her and bring her here."

Santana bit her lip, "I'll call Kurt, he sent a retrieval team to bring everything into one of Prometheus's secure locations. Something about how you have a weird habit of creating dangerous things. So she's probably safe and sound. I'm sure he has an inventory of everything that was put away. You made sure that Prometheus put fail-safes in place, in case something you created ever did fall into the wrong hands. I'll have him email the inventory over to my phone and show you alright?"

Charlie grimaced, she could hear Santana's tone, it would simply have to do. "Fine."

~O~

After what felt like hours of torturous instructions and repeating them back to Charlie until she could do it perfectly, Santana sighs and pushes the button to take the elevator to the vault. Charlie wouldn't be able to really relax and let herself get better until all this Artemis nonsense was taken care of.

She barely waits for the elevator doors to open again before she pulls out the phone Charlie had made her promise to use. This whole thing was _ridiculous_. Artemis didn't _need_ food and water, and yet Charlie was concerned and she didn't quite understand why. She sighs and calls Charlie waiting until her face appears on the phone a suspicious brown sauce around her lips. "Are you eating Ruth's _ribs_?" Santana demands immediately, her jaw dropping.

Charlie dragged her tongue around her lips, licking up the barbeque sauce. ' _Yes_. _I'm actually pretty hungry and it smelled quite good. Now I assume that you're there?'_

Santana watched as Charlie brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean. "You _bitch_. You insisted so Ruth couldn't make me some!"

 _'_ _You are a bottomless pit Santana, and would have eaten them all. Besides for whatever reason you insist you love me, which means going down to my vault and freeing my artificial intelligence, because I'm in a hospital bed and you and everyone else seem to think that I should stay here and rest.'_

' _Tell her that there is still a plate for her when she comes back.'_ Ruth insists.

 _'_ _That plate wasn't for me?'_ Charlie frowns and narrows her eyes. ' _Fine I'll take some more cornbread, and a few more ribs and that mashed potato. Please and thank you.'_

Santana rolls her eyes, but the promise of ribs almost makes her postpone this whole mission to get back as soon as possible. But Charlie needed this, so she would rescue Charlie's brain child from the vault. If anything it would move their relationship along. Or at least they would fall back into old habits. Ruth seemed to approve of the odd union, at least she was open and nice to her. She wasn't quite sure what Ray thought; he didn't seem to say much at all. "Alright so I'm going to enter the temporary pass code that Kurt gave me now. Did I mention that you probably should think of a less ominous name than the vault?"

' _It's an adequate name. It is one of my many vaults. Not all my ideas are safe for humanity, or I have made the determination that humanity isn't ready for it. That it would change the balance of power far too much. Also while they may be in a Prometheus storage facility, the technology in there belongs to me. It took a bit of convincing with the board to let me have it, there may have been threats involved, downright bribery was also involved, and when that didn't work I replaced board members until they saw the wisdom in my choice.'_

It seems a little too much like something out of a comic book, but maybe that's where Charlie got the idea. There was a reason everyone thought she was a super villain. "So basically what you're saying is that Prometheus, a multinational corporation, has weapons of mass destruction?"

 _'_ _Not any conventional weapons of mass destruction, also nothing that could cause catastrophic loss of life. I keep those plans in my head. Once it's out there—well I do not want anyone from any government getting their hands on it through any means. Now focus, Artemis might be scared.'_

"Great. That makes me feel _so_ much better." Santana shakes her head. She pushes the buttons so she can enter the vault. Truthfully it didn't seem _that_ secure to her. She would talk to Charlie about it. Even if Charlie insisted that few people knew about her vault, it still needed to be more secure than Fort Knox.

The door opens with a soft whoosh and she heads directly to the right, which according to Charlie's detailed instructions.

 _'_ _Santana? What's happening now? What are you doing?'_

"Relax. I know this. Twenty-seven steps to the right, then turn left—"

 _'_ _Ninety degrees to the left. You've got to be exact—'_

"Or what? I'll get lost in the creepy vault?"

 _'_ _Or you'll step on one of the trigger switches and blow up—or you could be cryo-frozen, or—really, it's just better if you follow my instructions exactly.'_

Santana stops at step number nineteen. "Oh," she crinkles her nose at that and turns to look at Charlie on the phone. "You're making that shit up aren't you."

' _Am I?'_

"A _step_ isn't scientifically accurate. You'd accidentally hurt yourself if you weren't being careful, or you would hurt someone else that came down here. Like _me_ —so unless this was a plan to lure me here and kill me, which you probably wouldn't do in front of Ruth—" Santana smirked when Charlie made a face. "All I'm saying is don't be a dick Charlie."

' _Whatever, just find her Santana, I'm not sure if she's online right now but if she is you need to be careful. If you woke up in a strange place, you would be hostile. So don't hold it against her.'_

Santana sighed, this whole thing was odd, Charlie _rarely_ showed any care for humans yet she seemed so eager and caring about this creation of hers. "Charlie you know she's not your _child_ right, she was never—"

 _'_ _I created her Santana. Artemis is my brain child; she is an amalgamation of many things. What I imagine to be the best parts of me and what I imagine to be the very best parts of Elaine—but I was unsure if I was ever going to activate her, and if I did, there were supposed to be protections to be put in place. This was never supposed to happen; she was never supposed to be born like this Santana. Now it's become a case of nurture versus nature, and I'm afraid that nurture is winning, I am hoping that I can reverse the effects that I can teach her to be as human as possible, that I can undo the damage that has been done but I'm not quite sure.'_

"I don't get it, maybe I won't ever get it, because I don't see her as a baby. I see her as a threat. She killed Zizes, I mean we weren't friends or anything even resembling that, and I have no fucking clue how Zizes managed to get your hand on that technology but—I guess what's done is done. You're just generally more careful about this."

' _I have an idea of how it happened. Truthfully, you became like Kurt and for a few moments I became sloppy. Expecting Dave to be you is simply unfair. You were more than adequate for the job of my bodyguard, Dave—well he's not that bright. Plus, he has been pining over Kurt. I really should fire him.'_

Santana rolled her eyes, she wasn't going to get involved, but she did want to know more about how this had happened. She instead chooses to follows Charlie's instructions to the letter and finally comes to a stop and crinkling her nose. "Charlie I don't think that they've sorted through everything and catalogued it yet." There were hundreds of boxes piled up on the shelves haphazardly.

' _Well, she would be in the biggest box. So just open that one.'_ Charlie frowned, she'd have to go down there and arrange everything later. Either way from what she could see Santana was approaching the boxes. _'It shouldn't take that long to find it—'_

"Charlie, are you seeing this there's an overturned box—I mean it's not a big one but it's definitely been overturned. You don't think—I thought I was supposed to start her up or whatever." Santana turned the phone so Charlie could get a good look.

Charlie stared at the overturned box, that _wasn't_ supposed to be possible. She reached for the tablet on her bed beside her plate and grabbed it going over the inventory list again. Every item had been catalogued as it had been dismantled. She could see when they had archived Artemis's chassis. The notes even detailed how they had disengaged her from the computer where she had been transferring the data. She grabs the phone again. ' _Santana, that's not possible. She shouldn't be able to move. The transfer ended far too early some of the data might have been corrupted, she shouldn't be able to get up and walk around like that. She shouldn't even be able to move_. _'_

Santana was about to respond when the lights flickered causing her to look up. "Charlie—"

Charlie hesitated for a second, before her face grew hard. _'Santana protect yourself.'_

"Are you serious right now?" Santana asked feeling the heat beginning to pool under her belly-button and slowly expand. It felt sluggish, not like the usual explosion it normally was. This wasn't good at all. "Charlie, I think I'm low on fuel right now." She glances at her hands, hoping that she could at least cause one of them to light up. It was pitiful, she had spent days with Charlie, days indoors, cooped up in dark rooms trying to figure out where Charlie was. She hadn't been absorbing sunlight like usual.

' _What do you mean you're low on fuel—it's not like someone blocked out the sun. It hasn't rained in days—'_

"I was busy trying to save your sorry ass," Santana retorts immediately. "I haven't been outside as much as I should, I'm going to need like a week out in the sun as it is. Best I can do right now is this," Santana waved her hand which was glowing in front of the camera. "I know for a fact that I needed to be at full power to take on Zizes, this thing—"

 _'_ _Artemis—her name is Artemis.'_ Charlie corrects.

"Whatever. Artemis killed her, and from the crime scene Zizes didn't go down easy." Santana pointed out. It wasn't as if she was scared, she wasn't scared of a stupid robot. She was however worried that this had been far too reckless even by her standards. If she was at full strength she would at least be able to contain the rogue AI until a security team could be dispatched but she wasn't and this AI had already killed one person already.

' _Get out. Now. As in leave, and close the vault behind you. If I had known that you were walking in there defenseless—'_

"I'm not a defenseless maiden that needs to be protected Charlie. Look you did say that she was learning and that you spent four weeks just teaching her. What's the likelihood that she won't attack me? And we can resolve all this peacefully?"

' _Santana get out now be—'_

Santana grimaced as the phone flew out of her hand as she dove out of the way, she had been lucky that she had caught the move in her peripheral vision. It had been fast, and low to the ground, if she hadn't been paranoid about this place she might be dead now. She scrambles to her feet and eyes the robot in front of her. The face looked familiar to her and it took her a moment to place it—the metallic woman that Charlie had placed on a slab in her freaky lab. "Seriously Charlie? Red eyes? You wanted her to be evil?" Santana grumbled wincing as the robot's eyes glowed an angrier red.

' _Santana! Santana!_ _Answer me!'_

The voice sounded distant and for a second she flicks her eyes off the scary robot in front of her to look for the damn phone, not that it would help her in this situation. She flicks her eyes back nearly a second too late as she throws herself to the side her shoulder slamming into one of the shelves, knocking a few devices down. She grimaces as metal bangs against the floor. "Artemis? Look, I know you may not like me but I'm here to take you to Charlie. She's in a hospital and she's been adamant about coming to see you, so she sent me to pick you up."

"You _stole her from me_!"

Santana dodged again grimacing at the glancing blow, she personally had no idea why Charlie had insisted on making her this strong. She probably wasn't thinking of it. Probably wasn't thinking of what would happen when her little robot lost control. You couldn't control _people_ , and the excuse that Artemis was a child was wearing thin, fast. "Stole her from you? I don't know what you're— _shit_."

' _Shit, she still thinks she's Elaine, of course the last four weeks probably never transferred.'_ Charlie picked up her tablet, suddenly wishing she had a keyboard. The transfer had been interrupted there were probably a _lot of things_ that hadn't transferred. She had to get into her vault system. It would be easier if this was manual but at least she had a very small backdoor into the system.

"Of course she does," Santana grumbled deciding to retreat some more, she needed to be careful the last thing she needed was for a rogue AI to escape into the city. "You're not Elaine—dammit, you're Artemis. I didn't steal Charlie from you. You've been _dead_ , and Charlie doesn't even _like_ me half the time. If there was even a chance that Elaine was alive, she'd drop me and go running back to her." Santana threw her first punch and winced as she felt the metal crumple under her punch. She looked at Artemis's face, half-expecting her to recoil in pain or _something, anything_ , but there was nothing. " _Fuck_." Suddenly there were metallic fingers digging into her neck forcing her against the ground. She gasps for air and kicks her legs trying to get enough traction to break free but there was none.

"Lies! I've seen you with her! I've seen how happy the two of you are!"

Santana grimaced, and used the last of her power to slam her fist into the arm that was holding her down, it's enough to get the arm to loosen for a moment. She immediately shifts her body to kick the robot off her, and roll out. Gasping for air she doesn't have the luxury of not moving. She scrambles towards the phone grabbing it. "Charlie I _can't_ —" her voice comes out hoarse causing her to grimace, "—she's trying to kill me!" There was no reply. " _Charlie_!"

It takes another moment before Charlie's face appears on the cracked screen. _'Are you being attacked anymore?'_

Santana whips around to locate where Artemis was, only to see that the robot seemed to be staring at the lights. She looks up and she doesn't quite understand, but the lights seem to be flickering, it's almost imperceptible. She turns her attention back to Artemis for a moment but she still didn't appear to be moving. "What did you do?"

 _'_ _You can leave now. In fact, it's best if you do. This entire vault needs to be purged. I'll start the sequence once you're clear._ '

Santana frowns, Charlie had avoided the question. "What did you do?"

" _I can build another AI again, I probably won't after this clusterfuck, but I can. I do not have the power to bring you back to life. The choice was simple. Those lights, they're sending data to Artemis's brain—it's the kill code I developed Santana. Li-fi, that's what it's called, stupid name but I didn't come up with it. That's what a marketing department is for.'_

"You killed her?"

' _Santana, this place needs to be purged. Without being there to examine myself, it's impossible for me to say what else had been corrupted, if I had made a mistake somewhere. I need you to leave now though, I don't know if she'll be able to adapt. I do know that she can't leave the vault.'_

"Are you—"

' _When she was Artemis, she pointed out that you apparently make me happy. I disagreed immediately Santana, but I would feel bad if you died attempting to help me.'_

Santana opened her mouth and then sighed, glancing at Artemis once more. It was the closest Charlie would probably get to admitting that there may be feelings involved. "Are you going to be okay because I mean—"

' _I just gave her a poison pill, do not ask me to watch her die Santana. Just come home_.'

Santana swallowed and nodded, "Okay."

' _And take the long way, given your occupation, I thought you knew better.'_

Santana scowled, "I didn't know—" she sighed, there was no point in arguing. There was something in Charlie's voice that suggested that she was upset about the situation. She turns and begins to walk out of the vault. "I'm sorry—she was important to you and I fucked it up."

' _You did. But so did I.'_ Charlie responds picking at the food in front of her. She was no longer hungry. ' _It says you're out of the vault.'_

"I am; I'm heading to the elevator." Santana stumbles forward when the door to the vault slams shut. The sound of heavy metal locks slamming into place are heard as the elevator door opens. Santana frowns and takes a step inside before looking at the phone. "Charlie?"

' _What?'_

"You know I'm here for you, whatever you need right? I told you that you can't get rid of me that easily, remember?" This experiment had been a disaster and it was clear to her that Charlie had come to view Artemis as more than a broken down robot. "Maybe we can I dunno, not have a funeral but—"

 _'_ _Santana I'll be fine. Just come back to the hospital. Now that you're safe I'm going to start the purging process.'_

Santana sighed when Charlie ended the call, leaving her alone to her thoughts. "Way to fuck everything up Lopez. How hard was it to simply retrieve a god damn or something?" she berated herself. All she could hope for was that this didn't set them back.


	29. Volume 05: Issue 01

"Kurt?"

Kurt glanced up from his tablet, and looked up at his boss. It was her first day back to work. It had been a bit touch and go and he personally wasn't sure if Charlie was coming back to work. Things had been _different_ , Charlie was different and he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of her _seeing_ someone about what had happened. "Yes Ma'am?"

"What happened to my _office_." Charlie insists pointing at the room in question which was covered in flowers and cards and balloons.

"Well, even though I insisted that you didn't need a welcome back party, or anything of the sort your employees missed you and they wanted to let you know that they care. So, they did this, against my advice. When you see them at the party just show some gratitude. I mean you have to remember Sam Evans was the interim CEO."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Charlie questioned.

The frown on Kurt's face was almost imperceptible, instead he turns to "Of course not, you have more important things to do, and to think about. I went through all your messages, and arranged them from most important to least important. Various world leaders, and other CEOs have called to wish you well, and a speedy recovery. You have an hour to listen to them all, after which you have several meetings back to back with our public relations department. As far as anyone knows you were kidnapped by a crazed lunatic, I believe that they want to run with that, but of course that is completely up to you. You then have a welcome back party—"

"I'll do an interview with Larry King, I like him. I want a real interviewer, bastard generally gives me enough rope to hang myself. Set it up. Cancel the meeting with the public relations department, I don't need them telling me how to avoid taking blame. Also, the therapist that I'm very aware that you hired for me—cancel it. Just give me all the paperwork that needs my signature, give me the projections for next quarter and tell every department head that I need full reports by the end of day tomorrow."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, that wasn't going to bode well for _anybody_. It would mean an extremely late night for most people and entire departments to get their quarterly reports done by tomorrow. The last time Charlie had been in this mood there had been a spate of firings. "Of course, I'll get right on that. Now, Charlie—"

"Also, can you do something about my office. I can't work like that. I don't know who can work like that. Clear out conference room three for me will you, I'll work in there until this mess is cleaned up."

"Right away and should I also get you your augmented reality contacts?" Kurt asked.

Charlie turned to him for a moment, she didn't want to deal with her employees, but if she didn't deal with them Kurt would make comments about how she had an image to protect. She just didn't personally _care_ at this moment. "Fine."

Kurt nodded at this, at least she was making an effort. Perhaps he could arrange for a different type of therapist. It _had_ been awhile since he had arranged anything in Charlie's personal life. "Also, Santana has called—"

"Kurt, I like to think that as my assistant that some of my intelligence has rubbed off on you. As if my actions haven't made it clear enough, I don't want to talk to her. You're my assistant, and you dislike her. Make something up."

"I intend to, but I want to _remind_ you, that Santana has a tendency to cause property damage. She also has a habit of hunting you down and finding you when you don't want to be found causing more property damage in the process. You're running out of insurance companies who will take you on as a client. So, while I don't understand what's going on through your mind right now, or how you want to deal with that or when you want to deal with Santana, but you _will_ have to deal with it. She's irritatingly persistent." Kurt responded, he was _not_ going to simply bow down because Charlie was in one of her moods. She knew that he was indispensable at this point and he was one of the few people who could put up with her.

"I'm aware," Charlie replies as she straightens her jacket. "Since we're on the topic of people I don't want to deal with, find me a reason to miss the staff party. I have work to do, I don't even want to think of the damage the interim CEO managed to cause to my company."

"Anything else?" Kurt asks after a moment.

"No, I would rather just be left alone to work Kurt. Unless it's an emergency I would _rather_ not be disturbed. You do remember what constitutes as an emergency right?"

Kurt finally rolled his eyes at this, "I've been with you for _years_ Ma'am. Of course, I know what an emergency is."

Charlie studies him for a moment before nodding and turning around, heading to the conference room. She pauses for a moment and turns to Kurt, "You're probably going to need to keep my schedule loose, I may change some things and have some people come in. Hopefully by then you'll have my office looking _normal_."

Kurt blinked, that sounded more like the Charlie he knew, the one that was always planning and plotting. "Of course. Are you planning to take over the world today Ma'am?"

"Not today Kurt, but I should probably start moving the pieces so it will be easier."

~O~

"You don't get to _summon_ me Charlie. You can pick up a phone and give me a call, you probably have my phone number. No need to send your creepy goons in a car to come and pick me up."

Charlie raised a brow and shifts her cane in her hand slightly as she picks up a fancy looking bottle, "Scotch? It's obscenely expensive, more than you make in a year. Well—more than you were making in a year when you were _actually_ making money."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her twin, "And there it is, you can't _help_ being a giant _dick,_ can you?"

"Please Quinn, I'm the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. Being a sociopathic dick is part of what makes me so _charming_. That and the money. You can get away with _murder_ if you have enough money. So, is that a yes on the drink or—?" Charlie prompted waving the bottle. When Quinn shakes her head, she sighs and shrugs before pouring herself a drink. "You know there are only three bottles of the Dalmore 64 Trinitas in existence. I quickly snatched up a bottle years ago, won it an auction. Unfortunately, the other two bottles remain in Dalmore's personal collection. Such a shame really." Charlie mused as she took a seat in her chair.

Quinn scowled at her twin, "You think I care about how _rich_ you are?"

"I think you wish that you could _be_ me, that you could afford to throw money around like I do. I assume my personal accountants would have something to say about it but they _don't_. I could go out and purchase your old place of business, and it _wouldn't_ hurt me. In fact, it's like _chump_ change to me." Charlie continues crossing her legs and bringing the glass of scotch to her lips. She inhales deeply and smiles. "I can definitely smell the Colombian coffee."

Quinn pushed herself up and reached for her purse, "I don't know why you dragged me here for this. You want to brag about your wealth, go do with all the other millionaires and billionaires that you hang out with. I don't care. I've got work to do Charlie, you may think that you're the only that does _real_ work but you're wrong. My _work_ is just as important as yours is. So, I'm going to go _do that._ " She wasn't going to continue to waste her time with whatever _this_ was. She had gone ten years without seeing or talking to her sister and she would be _happy_ if they could do that again.

Charlie takes a sip savoring the drink, "You can go back to your crappy little studio apartment, where you can make your silly little videos that get a few thousand views. You're barely scraping by with the AdSense revenue, and you _still_ don't have any sponsors because you're under the radar. Or—"

"Or?" Quinn prompts as Charlie holds up her finger and takes another sip of the drink.

"I'm sorry, this is absolutely _delightful_. Are you sure you don't want any?" Charlie asks pointing at the bottle.

"Get _on_ with it," Quinn responds acidly.

"Or you could go back to work at a _real_ news organization. What you choose to return as, is completely up to you. If you want a prime-time spot, which I _know_ you do, then you can do that. Or, if you want to be in charge then you can be. I imagine the pay check would be _substantial_ increase from what you're making now."

It wasn't what she had expected. Charlie wasn't _kind_. She wasn't an idiot either. There had to be some sort of catch and she simply couldn't see what her twin could get out of this. "Why?"

"Does it matter?" Charlie asked crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

" _Yes_. Of course, it matters. I'm not taking your _blood_ money."

"I haven't actually killed anyone you do know, that right? It's far to messy, and I would never actually get my hands dirty." Charlie sighed, and stands up. "I need someone to keep me _honest_. I don't trust you, I don't like you and I know the feeling is _mutual_. But people will _kiss_ my ring, or suck my dick when I begin my presidential run."

"We're not old enough to run for president."

"No, we're _not_. But I will be by the time of the next election. Which is why you have four years to pick up the pieces of our shattered media and make people _believe_ it again. You want to be a _hero_ , then that's fine. You want to stop the bad guy, by making me the boogey-man, then I suggest you take the offer, or I'll find someone else. Of course, I'll know how to _control_ that person—"

"I'm not going to be your propagandist," Quinn hisses.

Charlie smirked at the statement, "Good, you'd be _terrible_ at it. I have an entire department to do that for me. I don't want you to. I want you to tell the _news_. The facts, you can inject opinion if you must. I can't stop you and it's a free country. But that means that when I do something good, you need to get over yourself and remove the stick that's lodged firmly up your ass and report that too. I'm only asking you to do your _job_."

"You won't interfere at all?" Quinn asks suspiciously. "You won't kill a story, you won't _punish_ and lash out if we print a scathing commentary?"

Charlie shrugs. "So, long as it's truthful, I don't care. Chances are I'll be able to explain it away, again I have a huge public relations department. Now, I understand if you need time to think about it—"

"Fine."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, "Fine?"

"Okay, but the moment that you do something that seems remotely sketchy I'm going to leave," Quinn snaps at her twin. "I have journalistic integrity."

Charlie smiled brightly, everyone had a price tag and she had put enough pressure on Quinn that she'd done exactly what she had predicted. "I know you do," Charlie responds trying to keep her condescending tone at bay. "Kurt will be in touch with you about the details, now if you'll _excuse_ me I'm going to enjoy another glass of this and then enjoy my _amazing_ view."

Quinn nodded trying to keep her face neutral. Charlie would never be _president_ not if she had anything to do with it.

~O~

"I'm fine Ruth, I know that you and Ray wanted me to stay another week, I get that. But I couldn't. I needed to get back to work. If you want to blame anyone blame Ray, I have all these ideas in my head and he wouldn't let me use the blowtorch, or a screwdriver. I needed my space." Charlie stared at the design on her tablet as she tapped the pen on the table at a quick pace. She felt odd, sitting out here on her balcony with only her tablet, but it had been a long time since she had just enjoyed the sunset.

' _You went through a trauma, no one is going to fault you for taking your time to get back. And if they do you can fire them.'_

Charlie was quiet for a moment before she slowly began to drag her pen across the screen, her hand a blur of movement as she actually planned out her idea. "I'm _fine_ , I need to keep busy and I needed to get Prometheus's stock out of the gutter before Brittany decided to try and buy some of it up, just because she can. Don't _worry_ Kurt has a mountain of paperwork for me to sign and read over. I'm _safe_ , well mostly. I imagine I'll get a papercut before this is all over."

' _Ray says to put mud on it_.'

Charlie snorted a genuine smile crossing her lips as she puts the pen down and leans back in her chair. "Tell him I don't want to lose a finger due to infection. Putting dirt into a wound, sounds like a _terrible_ idea. Don't worry I'll use my grossly overpaid physicians." The smile fades as a shadow hits her face and she looks up. "Ruth, I'm going to have to call you back."

' _Charlie_ —'

Charlie pressed the button on her tablet ending the call and turned in her seat to look up at Santana who had her arms crossed as she floated there in her flaming glory. Charlie sighed and reached for a drink that was on the table. "Perhaps I should have had Kurt schedule for a meeting that kept getting pushed back. But this is _progress_. You haven't destroyed anything that I own yet."

Santana scowled, "The night is young. You disappeared."

"The Puckerman's whisked me away to their farm to recuperate. They live a very low-tech lifestyle. Also, I'm pretty certain we you know, broke up. Or at least something equivalent, you're not going to become my creepy stalker, are you? I mean let's face it—you're already sort of close." Charlie didn't flinch when Santana threw a fireball onto her balcony, it left a scorch mark but fizzled out immediately. "That was _mature_."

"It made me feel _better_ ," Santana frowns at this. Destroying Charlie's obscenely expensive things generally put her in a better mood. She could _generally_ see the amusement or slight annoyance on Charlie's face while she watched her things being destroyed, Charlie didn't care for material things, not in the way that some people did. But she almost felt guilty for scorching her balcony. "You want to talk about mature? You're avoiding me."

"I broke up with you. Before all the craziness, I ended things with you. I know you maybe hoped that I had forgotten but I haven't. I don't know what you want me to say or do that will make you feel better. But I am under the opinion that you do need to get another girlfriend, though a tip—don't fall in love right away. That's how you end up with someone like Quinn."

Santana floats until she's above Charlie's balcony and slowly drops down, powering down so she could look at Charlie. "This isn't—"

"I have a rather large black book, of various names. If you wish I can have Kurt set up a date for you. Now if you'll excuse me I'm working on saving the world's climate change problem—" Charlie begins, getting ready to dismiss Santana entirely.

"No. You don't get to do that to dismiss me, like I'm Kurt or someone who works for you. We had sex, we _made love_ several times, on this damn balcony twice." Santana resisted the urge to flame up as her emotions started to get the better of her. Charlie couldn't fake all that, she couldn't fake those moments that they had shared. "I'm not Elaine. I'm not trying to replace her either. I just—I know you're not Quinn. I mean you're a bigger bitch than she is but apparently, that's my thing."

"We've had this conversation before Santana," Charlie reminds her.

"And we're going to _keep_ having it until you stop trying to hide behind flimsy excuses and tell me what's really going on with you."

"Nothing's going _on_ with me. I have a life and you are no longer a part of it. I don't know how much clearer I can make this for you."

Santana huffed, "Because I told you that I loved you? That's why you're pushing me away? Look I get it, I know you're still in love with Elaine, I know you feel close to the Puckerman's because of what happened. I don't care if you don't love me as much as you love her, I just—" Santana waves her hands around trying to find the words. "I just want to know _why_?"

"Except I don't. Love you that is. I mean, as I mentioned before you were a teenage fantasy that I ran away with. Like a mid-life crisis except I'm thirty and I'm a relatively healthy individual. Let's not forget that you are my sister's ex-wife and honestly Santana everyone knows how much I loathe Quinn. Do you know how much it hurts her to see you fawning all over me?" Charlie asked. "I _won_ , in the end after all Quinn's bullshit I won. You were merely a prize, to be won and now that I have. I'm done with you."

"You know, you're so full of shit. I can see right through you."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "Really? I had every intention of fucking you when you came to beg for my help, if Brittany hadn't saved you I would have gone through with it. Plus, I wouldn't have saved Quinn. I don't have time to deal with this Santana. If you want to believe that what I'm saying is bullshit then that's on you. I have things to do and more money to make. So, show yourself out."

"I always knew you were a bitch, but I never thought you were a coward." Santana shakes her head and storms toward the railing of the balcony. "Good luck with your solitude. I hope you can live with yourself, knowing that the only people that want to be around you only do it because you are paying them." She takes off, purposely making sure to scorch the ground when she does and doesn't look back.

Charlie shifts in her seat before finally looking at where Santana had been. She would need to replace the tiling on the balcony, Santana had cracked the marble. It was going to be yet another expensive fix. She taps the pen on her chair for a moment before exhaling and flipping through her contacts till she finds the name that she needed to talk to.

' _Sup Chuck!_ '

"And people think that you're smarter than me," Charlie mutters under her breath angrily.

' _You're in a mood—what did you do_?'

"Nothing. I didn't do anything. I just need you to remind me that I am a good person."

' _What does it mean to be a good person? Does it mean that you perform good actions? Who is the one that determines what it is to be good and what it is to be evil—?'_

Charlie rolls her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for a philosophical debate. Just answer the question. Am I a good person, or not?"

' _If you were a bad person and did one really good action, would it make you a good person? Is it a balancing test? Or more of a sliding scale—?'_

Charlie hangs up without another word. She would have to figure this out herself.


End file.
